


Master of This Guy’s

by Anonymous



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Slavery, Bondage, Consent Issues, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Father/Son Incest, Fuck Or Die, Guilty Pleasures, M/M, Master/Slave, Porn With Plot, Semi-Public Sex, Undercover Missions, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:47:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 23
Words: 34,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23650300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Prompto's gonna have to suck some old guy off for the payload. Ignis is holding his leash.Ignis, former domestic slave to the prince, must pose as Prompto's owner in a plan to access documents possessed by a high-ranking member of the Niflheim military. Prompto is playing the role of his sex-slave. Their arrangement secretly has both hot under the collar, with not a little guilt.
Relationships: Prompto Argentum/Ignis Scientia, Prompto Argentum/Verstael Besithia
Comments: 1
Kudos: 35
Collections: Anonymous





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Repost of an orphaned work originally posted at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14796671/, which was originally written on ffxv-kinkmeme. I had plans to clean up the original and rewrite parts of the story but lost steam. A handful of people wanted to see the continuation so this is the original fic in its messy, poorly-planned, tropey idficcy state. Take it as it is!
> 
> Please mind the warnings in the tags. Slavery AU. There are multiple graphic non-con scenes and one graphic non-consensual incest scene. Thank you for reading.

The great glass doors opened without a sound. Prompto shivered, eyes shutting reflexively. A gentle tug at his throat reminded him of the present situation and he snapped them back open. Keeping pace, Prompto watched the floor tiles pass beneath the heel of Ignis's shoe, and tried his best to ignore everything else, including the chill on his bare skin and the slim leash swinging in and out of his line of sight.  
  
He was in Iggy's hands now. He'd have to trust the other man to play his part well. And, uh, hope this plan of theirs wasn't gonna be a traumatizing, catastrophic, and/or severely injurous mistake. But for now, all he had to do was keep his mouth shut. Hold a straight face while paraded about like a prized dog.  
  
...Except the hottest dude _alive_ , who just happened to be one of his good friends, was doing the parading, so Prompto also had to concentrate on staying out of bonertown. Unfortunately, despite being sexy as a fake fantasy, this was a pretty fucked-up real-life situation. So that would be really inappropriate. On _so_ many levels. But it was so difficult to ignore it, too. All day, while they wandered the resort, scoping things out, Ignis had to keep doing exceptionally attractive things. Like being posessive around handsy older creeps, or massaging his chafed throat under the collar with a white-gloved thumb, and Prompto's dick was all like, _I don't care how fucked up this situation is! Boner time!_  
  
Ignis took a seat at the dinner table, and Prompto quietly knelt at the cushion by his feet, leaning against the legs of the chair. He glanced from side to side through hooded eyelashes at the others seated below the table's line of sight, head bowed by Ignis's knee. Ignis released the leash. It slipped down in silence, over Prompto's shoulder, and pooled into his lap. The boy made no move either to grasp or avoid the leather strap.  
  
Soon Prompto was spacing out, having exhausted the new information available in places he was permitted to look. He couldn't block out the sound of the chattering guests at the dinner table, or the click of Ignis's silverware on the plates, but he wasn't paying close attention either. Even with the cushion, the floor dug into him from below, and his bare knees throbbed. The slim collar resting at the base of his throat itched. The straps on his wrists and ankles were uncomfortably present, too, and Prompto couldn't swallow the urge to pop his wrists or stretch or _some_ thing. He fought the urge to stare at his own pale stomach. Prompto wished the shorts weren't quite so short, that the shirt more than barely covered his upper chest. He'd protested the night before when Ignis had broken out his wardrobe for the weekend. Prompto could not believe someone would _actually_ be paraded in public like that. Having now seen these men's slaves in action, Prompto was glad Ignis had remained firm through the entire uncomfortable debate.  
  
As though the man in question had eavesdropped on his thoughts, Prompto felt a gentle weight on the top of his head. He dared not look up or lean into it. He knew without doing so that Ignis would be amicably complimenting a fellow guest. Drink in his left hand, right gently running his gloved fingers through Prompto's hair, down the back of his neck. He paused after a few strokes to leave a brief, approving scratch at the back of Prompto's skull, and then the solid touch retreated. Prompto released a silent whine through his nose. _Boner, no, messed up, very bad,_ he thought in vain, clenching his toes to keep from squirming.  
  
There was a tap of silverware against china above him and Ignis's hand appeared before his nose. Between his thumb and first two fingers he held a white sliver of fish that sent clenches through Prompto's very empty stomach. Knowing better than to use his hands, he leaned forward and plucked the treat from Ignis's hand with his teeth. He swallowed it down gratefully. His tongue darted out to lick his lips as Ignis's hand retreated and returned with another scrap of the man's meal. This continued until Ignis's leftovers came to an end. After the last morsel, Prompto, content, sucked the grease from Ignis's index finger and lapped at his thumb in a silent communication of gratitude. Ignis ruffled his hair once more.  
  
He didn't acknowledge Prompto again, even when after-dinner coffee arrived with a selection of Duscaean sweets that Prompto could totally smell from the floor. Prompto stared at Ignis's right shoe and drifted in and out of thought. At some point, the shoe moved, and Prompto knew his cue to stand. He picked up his leash in both hands, to mutely pass it forward when Ignis gestured in his direction. Ignis said his goodbyes to the other guests, smiling and making careful promises, and Prompto tried to keep from grimacing at the pins and needles swarming painfully through his legs. Too soon, Ignis's last conversation ended, and he wrapped the end of the leash around his hand. Still concealing his discomfort, Prompto fell to heel and they walked though the hallways of the resort. Only the quiet click of the collar's attachment broke their silence.  
  


* * *

  
  
"We're really doing this," was the first thing out of Prompto's mouth the moment the door swung shut. The young man grinned, legs still shaking with adrenaline. His face could not have resembled less the neutral, blank expression it'd been painted with all day. "We're in a rich people club in Altissia and we're actually - Do you realize we're doing a crazy plan and it's going _fine_? Don't get me wrong, still terrifying. Good food, though. No one yelling 'Lucians!', no MTs. I think I might be dreaming. Iggy, just to be sure, you mind sl- Iggy?"  
  
He turned around. Ignis leaned heavily backwards against the closed door, eyes shut, breathing slowly. Prompto could see a tremble in his right hand where it still clenched around the door handle. He put a hand on Ignis's shoulder. The other boy shuddered at the touch, but opened his eyes to meet Prompto's. With his bangs brushed forward, white tie loosened from his dark shirt, he looked younger than Prompto could ever remember seeing.  
  
"Harder than you expected?" Prompto said quietly.  
  
Ignis didn't break eye contact, but Prompto saw the slightest twitch of his friend's eyebrow before he caught himself. Prompto squeezed Ignis's shoulder and let go. The other boy still didn't move, not until Prompto moved forward once more and pulled him into a quick hug.  
  
When Prompto stepped back, the momentary spell had broken and they both swiveled into motion. Ignis made his way to sit on the edge of the bed, pulling out his tie, running his hand through his hair. He pulled off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose, then pulled out the burner phone to check for text messages. Meanwhile, Prompto started to peel out of his skimpy gear. Just as he was fighting the top, Ignis lifted a hand and said "keep that on," and Prompto froze before he even realized it. He lowered his arms gradually, smoothing it back down.  
  
"I apologize," his friend said. "I needed...a moment."  
  
"Dude, as many moments as you need," Prompto said. He stretched while Ignis collected himself, shaking some feeling back into his limbs. "And uh, I'm here if you wanna talk. I know it's gotta be..."  
  
"I had forgotten," Ignis said, looking at his own glasses resting on his thigh, "what people like this were like."  
  
Prompto, now cross-legged on the other side of the bed, raised a hand to scratch at the edge of his collar lazily. "Rich? Crazy? Powerful?"  
  
Ignis frowned. "...Cruel," he settled, not seeming entirely satisfied. He closed his eyes firmly, took a deep breath, and put his glasses back on. "Enough of that, now, then," he said, straightening his shirt collar. "We have a party to attend in one hour."  
  
"Ooh, a party? _Us_?" Prompto subjected his friend to a double-fingergun. "What kind of a party? No, wait, let me guess: We're dancing, except _you're_ in stilettos and _I'm_ the dance floor. Foxy."  
  
"Something like that," Ignis said distantly, sounding exactly like a man who'd rather swallow live frogs than interact with other people ever again. He turned to Prompto with a frown.  
  
"I'm sorry. I should have asked you. I thought it an opportunity to ingratiate ourselves. The man himself is hosting."  
  
"Stop apologizing," Prompto said. "Gotta seize every lead that comes our way. I'm in good hands," he said, feeling his face heat up as he continued quickly, "besides, I'm- you're the one doing the talking. That's a lot of pressure. You need to put in everything you've got. I'm just pretending to blend in with extremely dedicated kinksters. I can deal. Don't worry about me."  
  
When Ignis didn't respond, didn't look up, Prompto said, tentative, "...probably brings up some bad memories, huh?"  
  
Ignis tensed. "Not exactly," he said. "At least, not in the way you're thinking."  
  
"Care to explain?" Prompto said, stretching out along his side of the bed. "Or, like, no pressure," he added hastily. "I just know, well, sometimes it helps to talk about stuff."  
  
Ignis sighed and flopped back against the pillows. He scratched the side of his neck with one hand.  
  
"You have to understand, my upbringing was one of unthinkable privilege," he said slowly, staring at the ceiling. Next to him, Prompto stilled. "To a great extent, I was raised not as property of the Crown but as the crown prince's elder brother, with all the comfort and influence that entails. I never wanted for anything, truly. I received a lifelong education second to none in Lucis, and my closeness to Noct spared me a great deal of the violence and disrespect that I have – have come to understand - is common."  
  
"That makes sense," Prompto said.  
  
Ignis cleared his throat. "I was legally manumitted at fifteen. I confess I rarely felt collared until the very day it was removed. Foolish, isn't it? The liberty so easily dropped into my lap was itself weightier than any cord or binding chain. This _excursion_ we've undertaken...this world is entirely foreign to my own experience, yet I find myself recalling certain memories. Memories that haven't surfaced in a very long time."  
  
Prompto nodded. "I can't really imagine the whole of it, but I think I get that. The memories thing." He shifted to raise a fist in Ignis's direction. Ignis smiled, lightly tapping his knuckles against the other boy's.


	2. Chapter 2

"Surprise, surprise, the party is in a freaky sex dungeon," said Prompto.  
  
That is, Prompto _would_ have said that, were his mouth not occupied by his leash, and were he not surrounded by creepy billionaire perverts and the _human beings_ that they _owned_.  
  
Ignis didn't bother with the end of the lead like he had at dinner. Prompto had noticed the same thing while observing the slaves. Of those who wore a leash, most held the end in their mouth or hand, or had it wrapped around a wrist. These people clearly weren't a flight risk. Now there was a depressing thought. Noctis talked from time to time about hopes of achieving abolition in Lucis. He hadn't really paid attention to the details. Here, half-naked at an Accordan party where over half the people amounted to no more than furniture, Prompto suddenly found a burning desire to live to see that day. How on earth could they even begin to untangle this many people from the whims of the powerful?  
  
The playroom was probably three times as big as Noct's living room. There were a handful of young women and men, nude but for the collars denoting their status, attending to guests with food and drink and tidying up continuously. The man tending bar had a chest as thick as a horse and two big rings set into his nipples. There may have been twenty or thirty guests in the room. Most of the guests were accompanied by one or more personal slaves of their own, in various states of dress and undress. A few younger men loitered by the pool table, while a circle of older guests relaxed in a seating area. They were positioned to watch a young man gagged and bound to an X-cross receive successive strikes with a wooden paddle across his cherry-bright ass and thighs, shaking and whining in pain, his balls tugged away from his body and slapped. Some in the audience clapped, or laughed, their own balls dancing happily down the tonsils of the meek pets between their legs. Prompto swallowed around the leather in his mouth.  
  
 _Think mission thoughts_. Assuming he survived this experience with his fantasies intact, Prompto was headed for a _very_ special hell.  
  
Ignis lifted a hand and waved him forward, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the bar, two fingers extended carelessly from the others. Prompto took the hint and bowed, wrapping his leash around one wrist and peeling off.  
  
Returning with drink in tow, he spotted the place Ignis had claimed for himself on one of the low seats. He was speaking animatedly to an evil-looking elderly man with terrible hair. Prompto caught a glimpse of wrinkly old man ballsack before averting his gaze from the blonde boy kneeling before Ignis's conversational partner, kissing his inner thigh. _Bullseye_. He suppressed a shudder. Ignis had gone straight for the kill – and it made sense – it was better to make contact with their target as early as possible, establish patterns. They only had four days to get Prompto into his room, steal the files they needed, and get out without arousing suspicion. No pun intended. And, really, it had to be him. Asking Ignis to play rich slave-owner was awful enough, plus he was the one who understood diplomacy and high society. And there was not a chance in hell either Noct or Gladio could pass as a Niff, let alone put up with being bossed around for a weekend.  
  
Plus, it wasn't like Prompto was that worried. He knew Ignis could handle himself, and he knew what he was getting into. After some of the fights they'd been in, what harm was a distracting blowjob or two? Even if the guy did look and act like a catoblepas asshole. According to the intel from Cor, he was key, though. The first lead they had on understanding, and hopefully fighthing, Niflheim's newest forces.  
  
Ignis imperiously extended a hand as Prompto arrived to deliver the drinks, handing the first one off to the target with a slight bow. Prompto quickly looked back at the ground and retreated to kneel beside Ignis's chair. He and the target were laughing together now, the target's hand tangled in his demure slave's blond hair, Ignis pretending to play absentmindedly with one of Prompto's nipples through the shirt, as Ignis said something and the target straightened with excitement. Prompto was starting to flush from the attention to his chest, and the noise in the room seemed deafening all of a sudden. The old man said something that sounded like a question, and Ignis let it hang for a moment before snapping his fingers.  
  
Prompto crawled to Ignis's other side on cue. He could feel a flush spreading from his reddened face and chest, all over his body. He crawled slowly, langorously, showing off for the creep – the target – baring his neck with the collar's ring sitting in the hollow of his throat, arching his back to show off his ass, flexing his arms and thighs as he moved. He wondered if anyone else in the room was eyeing him, what they were thinking, and a shameful heat spread across his body. He rose on his knees to display more of his front. Prompto pressed himself up against Ignis's other side, gaze still lowered. Ignis started to stroke idly down Prompto's chest and stomach while describing his temperament to the other man. Even though he was stretched out for a stranger's eyes, the warmth and weight of Ignis's knee and arm grounded Prompto, as though a possessive grip would deter all the other guests.  
  
 _They can look, but only I can touch,_ said Ignis's firm fingers around Prompto's jaw.  
  
The target asked Ignis a question, and Ignis snorted, tightening his grip. Prompto surrendered the movement of his head to the other's whim, until he felt a light slap against his cheek and found himself looking their target in the eye. Averting his gaze, he saw the scaly skin of the man's throat contract eagerly as Ignis's thumb slipped between Prompto's parted lips. Prompto sucked eagerly at it, opening his mouth like an obedient toy when Ignis pressed down on his tongue.  
  
Prompto's entire being focused on that one point of contact. The target said something else to Ignis, who laughed again, and snapped his fingers one more time. Prompto untied the leash from his wrist with his teeth, standing to assume his place behind Ignis as the men shared a firm handshake.  
  
"Very well, Chief Besithia," Ignis said, pocketing the target's card with a slim smile. "After dinner tomorrow, he's all yours."  
  


* * *

  
  
As soon as they made it back to the room, Prompto darted for the bathroom without waiting for permission. He grabbed a change of clothes. Strip, collar off last, quick shower, stop the bad boner, collar on first, pajamas. They'd already decided to keep the collar in place at all times, just in case someone walked in on them. It was one of a set of rules Prompto liked to call the 'Blowing Cover Clause'. Prompto not speaking in public was another. The tragic thing was, he would have been into some of this stuff. Really into it. Like, between him and someone else, someone free, maybe someone with excellent hands. Very consensually.  
  
But, ugh, he was being a shitty friend for listening to his filthy lizard brain at all in this situation. Ignis was playing a part. This whole operation must be like a massive trigger for the guy. And the other people participating in that room had no say in the matter, which was impossible to ignore or forget and set an angry, sick churning in Prompto's gut whenever he thought about it. So Prompto needed to be a good friend. He'd cool his head and watch it on careless comments. Be there for Iggy. Seduce Grandpa. Get the files. Mission time. Priorities.  
  
After dressing and a quick series of stretches, Prompto burrowed into bed, relaxing against the soft pillows. Iggy climbed in not long after, warm from his shower and smelling of hotel soap, an offensive citrus. They lay without saying a word. At least, for a time. Just the sound of breathing, eaten up by the low hum of the heating unit. Prompto thought about the room. Then he thought about outside.  
  
"Hey, Iggy," Prompto whispered into the darkness.  
  
"Prompto," came the response from his left.  
  
He fidgeted under the covers. "Can I ask you something? Like, in the 'certain memories' territory? With a big, bold, 'obviously, you don't have to answer this' disclaimer?"  
  
The other boy didn't respond immediately. Prompto had just started to work up the nerve to take it back when Ignis let out a held breath like a sigh, and he realized they both were reeling from what they'd seen at the party.  
  
"What are you curious about?"  
  
Silence.  
  
"Prompto?"  
  
"What was it like?" Prompto said.  
  
"I'm sorry?"  
  
"The day Noct set you free?"  
  
Ignis said, "Oh," quietly, and then seemed to remember himself. "That one doesn't make for much of a story, I confess."  
  
"I'd still like to hear it," Prompto said. "But only if it's OK with you."  
  
He turned his head to look at his friend in the darkness of the room. Ignis was frowning slightly. "If you insist," he said. "Let me think...It was a warm day. Noct made a point of waking up early. My manumission paperwork was filed with the Citadel archives. I received a temporary identification card, a voucher for a smithy, and documents to carry on my person. Noct and I snapped my collar off in the car, using a wire cutter he had introduced to the Armiger the night before. We had dinner at a free restaurant downtown. I ordered my own meal, and he said a toast. We reviewed the day's reports before bed. By the next sunrise, things were back to business as usual. I remember delivering Noct's laundry the following evening, and thinking, _How anticlimactic._ I felt so fortunate all the same." Ignis's features had relaxed into a fond smile at the memory.  
  
Prompto said nothing. Slowly, quietly, he let out the breath he'd started holding out of reflex, recognizing the gift being granted him and not wanting to disturb this moment for anything.  
  
"I thought, at first, it would feel different," Ignis continued, his tone idle, relaxed, still not looking at Prompto. "Before, in my mind, I believed the _free man_ must somehow be intrinsically different from the _slave_ ," Ignis said, wincing, the last word foul on his tongue. "As I have come to realize, no such difference exists."  
  
"Because of you, actually," Ignis said. Prompto jolted. His heart was rocketing off the insides of his chest. The sheets bunched up beneath his hands. "When you and Noct first met. From the start, social divisions be damned, you treated none of us any differently. At first I was suspicious, and then I wondered if you might just be an idiot–"  
  
"Hey," Prompto protested for appearances' sake, fighting to keep a smile off his face.  
  
"-not knowing that you were perhaps the most intelligent of all of us, to see all people as people first and foremost." Ignis sighed. "Were that the rest of the world could be so wise."  
  
Prompto bit his lip, searching for any words that could do justice to the idea. He felt a warmth spreading in his stomach that threatened to envelop his entire body.  
  
"Thanks, buddy," he said in a near-whisper. "That – it means a lot."  
  
"Thank _you_ , my friend," Ignis murmured. "Let's rest, shall we?"  
  
The boys yawned in unison, and Prompto heard Ignis let out a surprised laugh under his breath. He rolled onto his side, facing away from Prompto, who remained laying on his back, staring at the ceiling.


	3. Chapter 3

Wakefulness came to Prompto gradually, like an auto-adjusting lens. Everything fuzzy around the edges, comfortable and warm. Then, practically in an instant, the sound of the world snapped into focus and the memories of the past day washed up.  
  
Prompto stifled a groan. Opening his eyes or even rolling over onto his stomach seemed out of the question. He stretched in place as best he could, burrowing deeper into the bedding.  
  
"Good morning," he heard Ignis say from the other side of the room.  
  
Prompto opened his eyes. The lights in their suite were on, the curtains still pulled shut. "'Morning."  
  
While Ignis cleaned his teeth and dressed, choosing to go the 'deadly in imperial purple' route, Prompto claimed another quick shower to freshen up. He eyed the small pile of shimmering gold vinyl on the bed. His uniform today involved only slightly more fabric than yesterday's, but it was something. According to the itinerary, they'd be leaving the resort grounds for an afternoon outing in nearer to the center of the city.  
  
When Prompto turned just a little in front of the mirror, eyeing his own ass skeptically in the outfit, Ignis cleared his throat. Prompto jumped. His elbow knocked painfully into the counter, sending the resort's hair-dryer onto the floor.  
  
"Iggy!" Prompto said, picking it up, fumbling the first time as though he were some kind of hair-dryer dropping dork. "Pretty- Pretty tight, right?"  
  
Ignis had that look like he was trying to avoid offering his honest opinion in response to Prompto's extremely fake laugh, and Prompto fully appreciated the consideration. "I've ordered our breakfast. In the interest of preserving appearances, would you mind answering the door when it arrives?"  
  
Prompto flashed him two thumbs up. "You got it, boss."  
  
Ignis made a face. "Thank you."  
  
Ignis returned his attention to doing up buttons, so Prompto glanced around the room. It didn't match the ostentatiousness of the places they'd visited yesterday, and mostly seemed like a bigger, nicer version of a hotel room. It was nicer than anywhere they'd stayed thus far, that's for sure. He didn't really have a scale for gauging 'slightly rich' versus 'mega-rich', to be fair. Plus he'd mostly been looking at the floor, not his surroundings.   
  
Aside from the huge bed and bathroom, a television and a comfortable-looking armchair occupied most of the space. Shiny side tables sat on either side of the bed, each with a lamp, and there was another small table by the armchair. The attached bathroom had two sinks. So probably the most expensive place he'd ever slept, after Noct's. There was no way this all was coming out of their monster farming budget, though. Either they had an in who wanted that drive just as much, or they were depleting resistance efforts to finance this. Just as that train of thought started to escape him, there was a knock.  
  
"I apologize for the trouble," Iggy said the moment the door closed behind Prompto.  
  
"No trouble at all!"  
  
Ignis claimed the coffee for himself, though he made a face at the first sip. They split the rest of the tray while discussing their plans for the weekend over a notebook Iggy produced from nowhere.  
  
"Uh, this looks like we aren't due anywhere until two in the afternoon," Prompto said, raising his eyebrows.  
  
"Astute observation," Ignis said. His glasses were folded over the edge of his breast pocket, and Prompto could see the dark circles under his eyes. "Today, I plan to follow up with each of the men we met with yesterday. I hope you don't mind passing some time in the room until then."  
  
"Sure you don't need me?" Prompto said. "Appearances' sake?"  
  
"That won't be necessary," Ignis said. "And, well, I would prefer you only be asked to, er- _perform_ \- when absolutely necessary."  
  
Prompto leaned forward, but Ignis held up a bare hand before he had time to open his mouth. "Humor me in this," he said.  
  
"....Alright. 2 o'clock," Prompto said. "No problem. But call the room if you run into trouble."  
  
"If I do." Ignis promised. He tapped his finger back against the schedule. "Now, following the afternoon address, Chief Besithia has extended an invitation to his personal box at Arena Galviano, after which we'll return to the room before the evening meal..."  
  
Prompto tried to pay attention, he really did, starting with the day's summary and Ignis's observations of other slaveowner-slave interactions, both general and specific. Some of Ignis's questions about the various semi-pornographic rituals Prompto was comfortable performing in public - basically anything they'd done so far - had been on his mind too. But Ignis went back through each stop of the day, describing the location, key players in attendance and their various relationships to Verstael Besithia, and Prompto found himself cracking jokes less and spacing out more as Ignis got to the finer points of the décor and menu.   
  
They'd made it about three quarters of the way through the list before he was shooing Ignis out of the door. It's not like he necessarily needed to know every detail of every fancy cocktail party Ignis had invited himself to, since he'd mostly be following wherever the man went, looking at nothing and nobody.   
  
The door swung shut for the second time that morning, and Prompto found himself relaxing into the bed once again.   
  
Prompto lacked all ability to cope with boredom, as he soon discovered. Ignis had left a crossword and a book. There was a notepad and pen on the table, and a room service menu. Prompto glanced it over before remembering he wouldn't be able to order anything, anyway. One of the drawers had a destination guide in it, which was just depressing. Despite the shit show that had befallen their once-cheery trip, they had gotten help with the Arms and made it to Altissia ahead of schedule, after all.   
  
Prompto had never been this far from home. Any other time, he'd be jumping at the chance to explore the city proper. He chewed on his thumbnail, tapping his fingers on the _Restaurants - Tenebrean_ page. Maybe after they pulled this favor for Cor and the others he'd have some time to go out for a night with the guys. Take everybody's mind off of stuff.   
  
He realized what he was doing and stopped. They'd just groomed them down for the infiltration. If he blew Ignis's cover over something as simple as bad-looking nails, he'd never hear the end of it. He'd been doing pretty good at catching his reflexive impulses for Ignis's sake. Turned out having nothing to do but stare at rich people's shoes all day made it pretty easy to space out.  
  
The memory of Ignis's fingers in his mouth arose unbidden. And, as he reflexively let his mouth drop open in self-exasperated lust, he felt something _else_ rise unbidden.  
  
Prompto glanced up to his own, very judgmental gaze staring him down from the mirror. The internal debate of a lifetime lasted about five seconds before he looked away, swore and stuck two fingers in his mouth before he could talk himself out of a terrible idea. Shoving the other hand down his shorts to rub at his stiffening groin, he let out an exhale of breath.   
  
He ran his own fingers over his tongue experimentally, pushing down, sticking his tongue out against them and meeting resistance, and thought about the way Ignis had been in his mouth like this the day before. In front of strangers, without even looking at him, if you didn't know it was an act you'd never guess anything but that taking Prompto apart fell so beneath his notice - even while running his wide, slender hand down Prompto's chest and the slight, firm pressure he applied kept Prompto's bare back pressed up against a single warm plane of contact where Ignis remained fully clothed..   
  
Prompto pulled his hand from his mouth to lick some of the drool onto his other palm. This time, he eased the tight gold shorts off and tossed them toward the bathroom, not wanting to explain any awkward accidents. When his slick hand closed around his dick, Prompto groaned around the fingers in his mouth, and added a third. He stroked faster, panting over his own hand as he curled the digits into the back of his throat, picturing Ignis doing it. The mirror facing the bed betrayed his full-body flush in glimpses, and Prompto squeezed his eyes shut.   
  
The slightly salty taste of Ignis's fingers. The way he never tugged the leash or looked back to make sure Prompto was keeping up. Like he took his claim for granted. But that wasn't it, not entirely. There was also the way he noticed when the collar started to itch, and scratched under it. The pressure of his hand rubbing at Prompto's head, the only communication they could afford. The approving pat on the head. He was doing what he was supposed to, doing it well.   
  
His voice. The way, possessively pressed against him, Ignis's voice had thrummed through his entire chest with every quiet, commanding sentence. But also the way he sounded in the Regalia, when Noctis was dozing off in the back and he saw a funny billboard or street sign, and had to lean towards Prompto and stage-whisper over the sound of the road whatever self-amused quip it had inspired.  
  
Prompto bucked his hips into his hand as he thought about the sight of Ignis, hair down but tie perfectly straight, untouchable in his pristine suit and ironed slacks as he carelessly pulled out his cock, speaking to him in that voice, giving him instructions, deep and scratched from sleep the way he'd sounded that morning. Prompto imagined dropping to his knees, taking Ignis in his mouth, laving worship along his length while Ignis's steady hand gripped his hair. He groaned and squirmed against the hotel bed, twisted his palm over the head of his dick and at the mental image of Ignis's fingers tightening, let out one great, desperate whine through the spit at the heel of his hand, leaving indentations of his teeth as he came against his fingers and stomach.  
  
Prompto panted, still twitching, unfurling himself from the fantasy. He wiped his fingers off on his thigh and belly, glancing at the tissue box on the side table but not wanting to drag himself back upright just yet. Then he groaned and pressed a hand to his face.  
  
What the hell was he doing?


	4. Chapter 4

At the tail end of the host's general address, Ignis caught Prompto dozing off against his leg. He was surreptitiously nudged awake and waved up with a hand. They'd already worked out a rhythm for Ignis's nonverbal commands: the important thing was establishing Ignis's experience and status among the others by appearing impeccably behaved and imitating others in the Chief's social circle. That went for the mundane stuff as well as their slightly freakier territory. So when Ignis presented a signal with no obvious aim, Prompto would freely act in service to those goals, and Ignis in turn would play along with whatever course of action Prompto chose to take, creating the illusion of a perfectly-trained slave, attuned to the man's every need.   
  
Grateful to have something to do, Prompto took his time returning. He'd seen the night before that he wouldn't be permitted to approach the servers or tables directly, so he edged his way towards the back side doors until a helpful member of kitchen staff intercepted him to press a sparkling beverage and tiny plate of hors d'oeuvres into his hands. He risked a tiny, grateful smile at the woman, who bore a thin silver collar. She glanced between the black leather at Prompto's own throat and wrist and his revealing getup, and offered a blank stare in the general direction of his nose in return. The room erupted in applause behind them as the speech came to its end.  
  
He retreated to where Ignis stood. The man was unfairly attractive, conversing pleasantly with a small group of gross men thrice their age, all of their beady little eyes sparkling in enchantment thanks to whatever genius bullshit he was spinning. Prompto served him silently. This time, Ignis waved him away as he began to kneel again, and Prompto, momentarily lost, looked in the direction of the gesture to see a line of other young men in tight shorts standing against the wall at the very back. He glanced from side to side.  
  
Just as he remembered, standing turned out to be infinitely better than kneeling. Although he was definitely shifting his weight more often than any of his neighbors, who seemed to have mastered the art of becoming human statues. Prompto had no clue how they managed it. Not being able to talk drained the energy right out of him. Bizarrely, though, he felt nothing if not even more antisocial. He'd barely said two words to Iggy at breakfast. They had to survive a whole _weekend_ of this?  
  
 _One day down, two to go._ He cultivated a series of backstories for the people he observed, standing in the shadows with the other slaves. Stuff like _Personally killed furry animal for ugly hat,_ and _From Duscae, on vacation, irrational fear of gondolas_ , even _Made a million bucks off the day Insomnia-_  
  
Across the hall, he saw Ignis shaking the hand of one of his pack of fans. Prompto quickly rolled his shoulders before stepping out of line and making his way back. The leash swung with every step, tapping against his chest. Ignis completed his goodbyes and Prompto once again took up his place as the man's shadow.  
  
They wound up with the elevator to themselves; as soon as the doors closed, he couldn't help but relax, shuffle in place a little bit, tap his hands against his sides, seeking an outlet for the nervous energy that had been building all day.  
  
Ignis carefully avoided looking at him, but murmured just under his breath, "Careful, now. Cameras."  
  
Prompto stilled immediately. Ignis said something else, the words so quiet he couldn't quite catch them over the low jazz playing out of the elevator speakers. Before Prompto could respond, the door tone sounded and they were moving across the body of the welcome lobby, past oversized wall sconces and line after shiny line of ottoman seats. Prompto tried to keep pace with Ignis's long strides and avoid tripping over his own feet.  
  
They took a cab to the arena, Prompto turning red where he perched. Based on the open behavior of the old bastards in the play party, he'd been prepared for transportation to get awkward. Like, curling up at Ignis's feet or something, the thought of which sent a hot rush through him. This car didn't have that kind of room, though.   
  
Prompto shifted on the itchy woolen blanket their driver had insisted on laying down before waving him into the backseat. His face burned and he kept his head downturned so that as little of him was visible from the rearview mirror as possible. On the drive, he found once again he couldn't restrain himself from tapping his leg, worrying his hands back and forth as slowly as possible in his lap.  
  
The cab stopped and when Prompto stepped out the driver aimed a scowl at his lowered gaze as though his very presence had introduced unspeakable contagion to the man's vehicle, and slammed the door shut. Ignis handed the driver a wad of bills and bid his gratitude before gathering himself. Then he glanced back at Prompto, the first time since leaving the hotel room. Ignis held out a hand. Prompto's own twitched automatically in response, and he raised his hand, hardly daring to breathe – until the tiniest shake of Ignis's head aborted his forward movement and he lowered it back down.   
  
Almost imperceptibly, Ignis tipped his chin to Prompto's left. and he understood. The waiting hand remained upraised between their bodies. Prompto averted his gaze, unwinding the smooth strap of the leash from his left wrist, and placed it into Ignis's grip. Ignis gave it a quick pull and they were off.  
  
A short walk up the arena steps later, they were seen to Besithia's box by the same personal slave that had attended him the night before. The balding Besithia greeted Ignis personally, wheezing out his cover name with enthusiasm as though they hadn't just met the night before, and looked Prompto up and down with a leer so hungry Prompto had to suppress an involuntary shudder. Three other guests were seated at leather bar chairs along the far wall, which was just a window looking out on the coliseum. The other three walls served as home to three televisions, a stocked bar, and a pristine white couch, in clockwise order. Past the couch on the left, a small hallway extended. The room sat multiple levels up, placing them at the vantage point to spectate the events below.  
  
Prompto twitched when Ignis handed his leash to Besithia's slave, having immediately tuned out the two men. He was led to the left hallway. On the right was a restroom, and on the left, an elegant metal structure resembling a wrought-iron fence with the three leashes of the other guests' slaves affixed. They all had the same neutral, invisible expression Prompto was becoming used to. As Besithia's slave wound Prompto's own around an open bar, tugging it tight to check the knot, his stomach flipped over. He lowered himself to the hallway floor beside the others, mimicking the straight-backed pose each somehow maintained.  
  
An announcer shouted something on all three of the TVs, and whatever happened next resulted in an explosion of screaming and cheering from the arena below. Prompto heard Ignis comment on it, but couldn't hear well enough over all the other noise in the room to make out what he was saying. He stared at his hands where they sat balled atop his thighs, and focused, trying to tune out the TV and the other guests.  
  
"Marvelous, isn't it?" Besithia was saying. "It's as they say: Nature takes its proper course. You see, you're winning already. I knew you had a clever look about you, Amicus."  
  
He heard Ignis respond. "I find, Chief Besithia, that it is that unpredictable element of chance in which lies the real excitement."  
  
"Not clever, then, but lucky," the target said. "Some say luck is the result of being clever enough to plan for unforeseen obstacles."  
  
"I may be quite clever, indeed, if that's the case," Ignis said smoothly. Prompto could hear the same self-deprecating undertone he used when complimented on his appearance. Six, he was _excelling_ at this. "On the other hand –" another roar of crowd noise rippled through the booth. "– more medals, my friend, seem to have slipped through your fingers." Besithia cursed. Prompto huffed in amusement, then panicked, stiffening in his position despite the protests of his knees.  
  
Another of the guests spoke up. "And _you've_ won again! Why, even having chosen a losing breeder. Tusk 'til Dawn haven't taken a single match all season. What do you know that we don't?"  
  
"As you well know, I am a newcomer to Altissia," Ignis said. "I merely liked the sound of the name."  
  
The old men cracked up at that, for some reason. Prompto fought to keep a smile from his face. _Classic Iggy._  
  
The betting and banter continued over the continued sounds of battle blaring over the television. Prompto alternated between listening to Ignis and the announcer's commentary, listening without really paying attention to the fights. As a few rounds passed, the guest who'd questioned Ignis about his bet became increasingly agitated as his losses mounted, howling. He finally lost the last of his entrance pool at the fifth match, and Prompto heard the crash of hard glass meeting harder floor. Onscreen and faintly through the glass, the horn of the arena sounded, denoting intermission.  
  
Prompto wondered, almost distantly, which of the other slaves was owned by this man.  
  
Besithia laughed, a crawling, dry sound that stood the hair on the back of Prompto's neck on end. "Curb the whimpering, you daft man. It flatters you not. What must our newcomer think?"  
  
"I assure you, I am intimately acquainted with such loss," Ignis said. "My sympathies."  
  
"Speaking of luck, yours continues to stupefy in defiance of all odds," Besithia said. "You're quite certain you have nothing to share?"  
  
Ignis laughed, then, himself, tittered and deflected until he'd steered the conversation back towards maximizing wartime profit. Even the angry guest perked back up, the other two joining their conversation.  
  
It was at the five-minute call for patrons to return to their seats that Besithia's slave returned to the hallway to unhook the leashes attached to Prompto and the others, unnecessarily tugging them up. The slave dropped the leashes, Prompto's falling silently against his body. For the first time, Prompto noticed a geometric tattoo against the pale skin of the boy's wrist. He almost slapped his hand over the wristband on his right on pure instinct, though he felt like a fool immediately for it.  
  
He still didn't know what they were being retrieved for. Prompto remembered the party of the previous night. Ignis's palm against his stomach. How much of the BDSM stuff was "secret sadist club only" material? Did the arena have a policy against public exhibitionism, or did the booth make it fair game? Did human laws even apply to the enslaved? For probably the fifth time that night, Prompto wished he'd tried to learn more when he'd agreed to this.  
  
The others were tying off their leashes, so he took his time winding it around his wrist again. He mocked himself mentally as he went. _A weekend in character! It'll be like a convention! It's like dressing up for the Assassin's Festival!_  
  
Fortunately, he'd been led in last, so last he was to follow the others, trying to move his fingers imperceptibly at his sides as an outlet for the urge to fidget and tap. He'd take his cues from them, and well, he knew what he was getting into. If he and Iggy ended up with weird sex memories, well – they'd work it out. Or never talk about it again. And maybe, if Iggy gave him time off again tomorrow, it would become yet more material for the bad train to pervert town.  
  
His rising panic defused itself as the slaves took their places before their masters' feet and nobody reached for their zipper. Prompto knelt before Ignis, facing him this time, like the others. He kept his gaze on his friend's shoes, not trusting himself to risk a look up.   
  
It was only when he caught a glimpse of Besithia shifting around in his peripheral vision that Prompto was given an explanation for their relocation. Besithia's slave had gotten up on his hands and knees and Prompto slowly repositioned himself to follow suit. He kept looking straight ahead, trying to watch without watching despite the growing sensation of his own tongue drying inside his mouth. Besithia lifted one leg, then the other, and let them fall on the slave's waiting back.   
  
Just as Prompto saw the second leg fall, he felt a weight land across the middle of his bare spine. Then another. The texture of Ignis's sole tugged at his skin, so that as Ignis found a comfortable position, Prompto could feel the heel digging into his skin and twisting it around. A scratchy film of grit coated the material.   
  
Ignis crossed one leg over the other. Distantly, Prompto heard the announcer calling the next match over the television speakers. The sounds of the game resumed, and soon, so did the five men's conversation, bantering leisurely back and forth while the slaves maintained their positions, having not said a word about the change in arrangements.  
  
Besithia said something. The man across from Ignis responded. Prompto wasn't able to focus on anything but the weight of Ignis's legs on his back. Ignis had been out all morning, likely walking back and forth through parts of the resort. Then they'd been to that other thing. And the taxi. The street by the gondola stop outside had been polka-dotted with puddles. Ignis had stepped in any manner of things.  
  
Just then, the audience cheered for the end of a match. Besithia spoke again. Ignis laughed at whatever was said over a sip at his drink, a theatrical mirth that traveled down his whole body. As Prompto's arms and kees shook, he wondered what could be going through Ignis's head. If he was constantly weighing options and strategizing, even now. It had almost been too easy to kiss up to this Besithia guy. Prompto just needed to get into his rooms tonight, show him a good time, figure out where their objective was being kept. His chance to shine. They still had plenty of time to pull this off.  
  
Above him, Ignis laughed again. Prompto looked down at his hands, splayed before him on the polished floor, and shut his eyes.


	5. Chapter 5

Everything from the moment he knelt at Ignis's feet forward happened twice as fast. The Totomostro tournament ran later than expected, and they traveled in Besithia's car back to the resort. This time, Prompto _did_ spend the ride at Ignis's feet. They hadn't time to stop by the room, going straight to the group dinner instead.   
  
The whole way, Prompto wondered if he could get away with touching his own back, just to make sure there wasn't a big mud stain or something. He kept his hands at his sides, but couldn't ban his own mental images. The collar seemed to be getting tighter and tighter. The boy on Besithia's leash was younger than Prompto, but physically similar, a svelte blonde with a narrow nose. Another good reason it had to be him. Hopefully the guy had a type.   
  
Prompto watched Besithia's slave for hidden signs of personality. No dice so far. Which unsettled him; where he'd grown up, Prompto hadn't met any enslaved people personally, as far as he knew, or at least not many. But it wasn't like they didn't have _personalities_ like anybody else. Even Iggy was born into it for the better part of his life, and he was the most opinionated guy Prompto knew. Or maybe that was just a natural consequence of being best friends with Gladio and trying to advise-slash-raise Noct for a living.  
  
Yet everyone he'd interacted with in this resort had sort of a detached vibe, and Ignis and the others rarely even acknowledged their presence, for better or worse. So far, the only exception he witnessed had been the night of their arrival, on the way to dinner, where they'd seen a furious, red-nosed jerkoff in a suit rain blows upon the bowed head of a grown man, all over a dropped plate. They'd just sort of walked past, but Prompto had seen Iggy tense up for a minute.  
  
The one place in which the rules seemed to change completely was the after-dinner play party. Even the outfits and the collars and leashes were more of a fashion statement than anything. As if in this circle Prompto amounted to the social equivalent of a decent purse with legs. Not the mental image he'd been fostering at all.  
  
At dinner, Besithia tried to pet Prompto on the head as he walked by. Ignis pretended to mistake the man's overture for a handshake, expressing gratitude once again for the invitation to the arena, and Prompto curled closer to his leg, feeling stupidly grateful for the save.   
  
Subsequently ignored through the rest of dinner, Iggy eventually hand-fed Prompto his leftovers again, this time something gamey in cream sauce. Prompto got at as much as he could with his teeth, and cleaned Ignis's fingers off with his mouth only at the end. At the dessert's arrival, Ignis leaned back comfortably in his chair, coffee in one hand and the other kneading the top of Prompto's skull in soothing circles.  
  


* * *

  
  
"Step in anything today?" Prompto said sarcastically, trying his best to crack a grin. He had twisted one arm behind his back, rubbing awkwardly wherever it reached.   
  
Ignis glanced at him, flipped the door latch, then strode to the armchair, loosening his necktie. He sat with an exhale that reminded Prompto of the roar of the Totomostro crowds.  
  
"Iggy? Buddy? Pal?" Prompto said. He walked past Ignis to grab his towel. "Gonna grab a showerino, I think. You O.K.?"  
  
Ignis sat up straight. His fists rested on the tops of his knees, curled tight, but he nodded. "Excellent work today, Prompto," he said. "Thank you for placing your trust in me."  
  
Prompto slapped his upper arm, grinning. "You got it, dude. And hey – You're winning at this. Don't freak out too bad." Prompto realized as he said it that the reassurance was as much for him as for Ignis. But it did help. "Two down, two to go."  
  
His friend grimaced. "Suppose so."  
  
"Uh, and, by the way, the footrest thing? _Major_ weird." Prompto added on impulse. "Like before, I was thinking, 'What freaky stuff can we possibly do in this rom the next three hours?' but now I know."  
  
"It is quite disturbing, isn't it?"  
  
"Have you done that before?" Prompto asked, and Ignis frowned at him.   
  
"I must ask that you restrain your... unfailing curiosity about my life," Ignis said. "Until we've seen the last of this place, if nothing else."   
  
Prompto stammered in search of an apology, but Ignis sighed, held up a hand and continued. "But to answer your question, no, I have not. Nothing about this is familiar. Imitating those our target surrounds himself with is the best I've managed."  
  
"Monkey see, monkey do, right?" Prompto said. "It's cool. I'm doing the same thing."  
  
"A fortifying thought," Ignis said.   
  
"We're in it together." Prompto grinned. Ignis didn't smile, but some of the tension seemed to have left his head and shoulders. "BRB now, shower time."  
  
Under the low rumble of the shower water, Prompto let himself loosen up a bit, push off some of the creeping stresses that had been advancing through the back of his mind all day to be dealt with later. He palmed at himself, idly thinking about how he'd felt that morning. Prompto halfheartedly conjured up mental images of the day: the speech, the trip to the arena. He massaged the bare skin of his neck with the fingertips of his other hand. Tried to picture Ignis, snapping his fingers or flicking his wrist...   
  
...Ugh. No dice. Too weird. It had just been a weird day all around. He stayed mostly-soft even in the warmth of his digits and the cascading stream, and quickly gave up.  
  
Half-dressed once again, Prompto stepped out of the bathroom directly into Ignis's outstretched hand. Both jumped apart. Then Ignis thrust something into Prompto's grip. He straightened up stiffly as Prompto turned the small bottle over.  
  
"There's no label," Prompto said. He uncapped it and gave it a sniff. Then he blinked. "Whoah, that smells great," he said. "Do I need to use this?"  
  
"While you were in the bath, the Chief had this delivered - with his compliments." Ignis pushed his glasses against his nose. Prompto tipped a tiny bit of the scented oil on his fingertips, rubbing them together.   
  
"So, yes," he said. "Sweet! Sure thing! Nice and shiny for the rich man. Oooookay. Love it." He undid his recently-reattached collar with one hand, tossing it onto the bed, and poured more of the oil over his palm. Prompto started to rub it in against his throat and shoulders.  
  
" _Prompto_ ," Ignis began, voice tight like he was in pain.  
  
He couldn't quite place the scent. Sort of nutty, not too spicy. Probably expensive. His skin where the oil had soaked in felt like velvet on his hand. "Playing the undercover femme fatale has been a _life_ long dream of mine, as a matter of fact," he joked.  
  
Ignis's entire face strained.   
  
"Jealous?" Prompto winked.  
  
... _Or_ just really exasperated.   
  
"I'm fine, Iggy," he said. "Seriously. The old guy is a total slimeball. He can be gross and I can't talk back. But he's got, like, the keys to the city, and we're in pretty deep. I'm not backing out now. We've got a plan, man. It'll be just like amateur porn. Nothing to be afraid of."  
  
"Please. Prompto. If you feel even for a _moment_ that Chief Besithia's requests exceed your reasonable limits, whatever they may be, invoke my name immediately," Ignis said, undeterred. "I've already promised only what we agreed on, and no more. He is a violent and terrible man. He may not give care to insult or injury visited upon a piece of property, but he will respect the will of the _owner_."  
  
Prompto moved methodically from one patch of bare skin to the next. "Yeah, of course," he said. "Not gonna blow the mission over one creep, but I appreciate you having my back, man."  
  
With twenty minutes to go, they reviewed the plan for the play party and Prompto's temporary transfer to Besithia's care. Ignis fidgeted and fussed the whole way, less "charismatic businessman" and more the familiar, high-strung, overprotective friend Prompto knew and loved.  
  
"Tonight's the hard part," Prompto said. "Then it's cocktail parties, tiny shorts, and smooth sailing 'til Monday morning." Ignis tried to interrupt, but this time Prompto stayed him. " _You've_ been doing all the work. Just sit back and let the master of seduction do his thing."  
  
That earned him a smile. "You are right, of course. When should we expect his arrival?"  
  
Prompto, grinning, slapped a hand over his heart. "Ouch. From my own partner-in-crime!"  
  
"And who better to tell you the truth?" Ignis said.


	6. Chapter 6

"Allow me to introduce you two. This is the young man who upstaged us all at the games!"  
  
Ignis accepted the proffered hand with a smile and nod. "A pleasure to meet you."  
  
"Why, the pleasure's all mine..."  
  
And so his night continued its circuitous path. Ignis lingered beside a billiards table with the Niflheim electronics manufacturer who'd so explosively responded to his losses earlier that day, offenses seemingly forgiven. The man unfailingly seized every opportunity to introduce Ignis in this manner as each successive guest arrived for the night's entertainment.   
  
He maintained a careful eye on Verstael Besithia, who had deposited himself upon the same seat as the night before. A simple web search for the Research Chief had provided more than enough photographs to positively identify the man. Divested of the extravagant traditional robes and armor of Niflheim's nobility, in person, he had the bodily presence of a shriveled dandelion. The boy who frequently attended him shuffled with something on the floor of the room's open play stage, no doubt staging the evening's entertainment. Besithia's sunken eyes tracked Prompto's rear as he balanced an armful of glasses across the room.  
  
Per mutual proposition, Ignis had sent Prompto off upon their arrival. He was to circle the room and provide service to other guests in any manner of small, inconspicuous ways, such as replacing empty drinks and gathering garbage. With any luck, he'd succeed in catching the eye of other guests throughout the night. Their interest could serve to compliment Besithia's ego when he departed with the young man, further increasing his perceived value - as well as reducing the risk of suspicion.   
  
"Excuse me," a cue-bearing guest said to Ignis, and he stepped away from the table. The man lined up his shot without a word of thanks. Ignis caught a glimpse of Prompto shimmering between the backs of two large gentlemen, one leading a young girl in a slave's collar. Prompto swerved to avoid the leash at the last minute. Ignis schooled his expression and resisted the urge to adjust his tie again. Neither of them was in any immediate danger.  
  
He sipped at his sparkling water and eyed the slightly younger men lounging against the bar. He'd simply have to trust Prompto to play his part fully, as he had been doing thus far. Ignis had a responsibility to his own role in return.  
  
The crisp sound of breaking glass interrupted his next thought. Ignis glanced in the direction of the sound, and was forced to suppress his reaction once more.  
  
Prompto held four pieces of glassware, a fifth in pieces on the tile around his bare feet. He stared at the mess with his mouth slightly open in surprise. He glanced up.  
  
Ignis and Prompto's eyes met. In that second, Ignis saw Prompto realize their surroundings and divert his gaze once more, but the damage had been done.  
  
The guests who had heard Prompto's accident conspicuously pretended to take no interest in the scene as Ignis strode past the two men and their stone-faced slave. Prompto's whole body twitched at Ignis's approach, and again he appeared frozen in indecision.   
  
He was running out of ways to salvage this situation without compromising the mission. A limited number of options remained open to him. Ignis felt the curious eyes of their bystanders. Their interest seemed to meet at a single point of heat on the back of his neck, like a dozen magifying glasses all directing sunlight towards the anguish of the ant.  
  
When Ignis reached Prompto's side, and the young man hesitated before turning to face him, Ignis made his decision on the spot according to the rules of their engagement.  
  
Prompto's head swung with the _crack_ of the open-palmed blow, and when he instinctively turned his reddened cheek back in shock towards Ignis, the second drove the young man to the floor.  
  
"For the interruption, I beg your pardon," Ignis said, turning to the closest guest. This triggered the dissolution of the moment. Patrons returned to their idle conversation, diversion quickly forgotten. A pair of slaves had materialized to gather the glasses and mop up.   
  
Prompto had quickly gathered himself onto his knees. Jaw tight, head down, he remained in place while Ignis busied himself with straightening his gloves. Ignis gently cuffed the side of his head, not wanting to extend obvious comfort whilst still surrounded by the wandering eyes of the gentlemen's club.  
  
"What do we say?" Ignis asked when Prompto stood.  
  
Prompto, bright red, still not back in character, spoke quietly. "I'm sorry, sir."  
  
Ignis laid his palm against Prompto's face where he'd struck. The knot in his stomach tightened when Prompto imperceptibly jerked, but Ignis schooled himself. He let the fingertips of his gloves sit lightly on the boy's face. Prompto swallowed. Ignis watched the edge of the black collar bite into his skin with the movement. Then he patted Prompto's cheek, none too gently, and turned back towards the billiards table. "See to it that it does not happen again."  
  
A familiar voice drawled from beside him, nasally against an insidious gravel. "Come now, is that all?"  
  
Ignis pivoted to face Verstael Besithia, whose eyes sparkled from deep beneath curling white eyebrows.  
  
"Do you find my management of my own items insufficient?" Ignis said.  
  
"I mean no insult, my young friend," Besithia said. "Merely a bit of advice from my own vast experience. Never leave it without ensuring the lesson has been properly learned. They simply don't understand misbehavior from an intellectual perspective like you or I."   
  
Ignis frowned. "I assure you, Chief Besithia, this slave-"  
  
Besithia interrupted him with a host's flourish. "I see you remain unconvinced. Here. Allow me only provide a lesson. The next time you may return to your own ways if you wish."  
  
"I couldn't possibly trouble you," Ignis said, tasting his own loss on the words.  
  
"It's no trouble. I've just had the rack put up. Now, come," Besithia said. He gestured to his personal slave, who gathered Prompto's leash in one hand and dragged the young man across the dark room by throat and wrist. Prompto complied wordlessly. Ignis recognized the tremble in his step. Fortunately, he didn't hesitate at the sight of the great black frame from the night before. He only started to shake once the slave had secured him stretched all four limbs across the X-shaped structure, short links between the cuffs and frame dancing.  
  
Guests drifted in their direction, lured by the sight of the play stage being put to use.  
  
"Let me see, how will we do this...Ah, yes. Who'd like a strike?" Besithia raised his voice to address the group.  
  
A few severe-faced old men raised their hands without pause, and Ignis clenched his jaw.  
  
"Six, eight, nine...and, of course, the master," Besithia addressed Ignis, who glanced at the other without turning his head, "Ten it is. A nice, slow start to kick off the evening. Thank you for donating our entertainment," he said.  
  
"My pleasure," replied Ignis. He buried his revulsion beneath a conversational tone, even offering Besithia a smile. "I look forward to the show."  
  
Prompto, with his back to them, had no way of hearing their conversation. As each minute dragged by, Ignis saw his skinny, freckled back rise and fall. As Besithia handed the first man the paddle and he took position behind Prompto, Ignis watched Prompto shift almost invisibly in place against the frame, catching himself at it and stiffening, unaware that the first blow was about to land.  
  
The man tapped the paddle against Prompto's ass. Prompto's entire body jerked. His tight gold shorts scattered reflections from the harsh spotlights pointed at the play stage. A few onlookers laughed at the reaction. Then the man struck.   
  
He'd swung his arm back fully, and the resulting blow sent Prompto slamming chin-first into the wooden posts of the frame. He grunted, falling back at the end of the cuffs on his wrists.  
  
The next man in line took the paddle and held it at the ready, waiting in expectant silence.  
  
"Will he count?" Besithia asked Ignis.  
  
Mentally, Ignis swore. "From you, it must be delivered as a direct command," Ignis said smoothly. "He's been trained for my personal use."  
  
The look on Besithia's face at that could be described as positively ravenous.  
  
Besithia raised his voice. "Keep count," he said. "That's an order, slave."  
  
Prompto nodded. Then he as the paddle struck his ass again. "Yes, sir," he said.  
  
"Count," Besithia said. "From the beginning."   
  
"One," Prompto gasped before the paddle even landed. "One!" he shouted when it did, pulling against the cuffs. "Two," he cried at the second. "Three, sir, I understand-"  
  
"That was a warning. You will not receive a second." Besithia leaned back, gesturing to the guests to carry on.   
  
Each man seemed determined to outdo the last. With each blow, Prompto shook against the frame, at times held up only by shackled wrists. Ignis's palms grew damp against his sides as his own turn drew closer.  
  
"E-eight," Prompto said. His nose and lips flattened against the center-post before him, his panting breaths filling the gaps between strikes.  
  
"He's lovely," said the ninth man as he handed the broad implement off to Ignis. Though gentler than the others, Prompto swallowed a sob around his number in the corner of Ignis's eye. "Lovely as he seemed from the dinner table. So eager. Where on earth did you find him?"  
  
"I'm afraid he's a family breed," Ignis said. "Amicus Incultam. Pleasure."   
  
The man waved him forward. "Pleasure indeed, Amicus" he said pleasantly. "My thanks for the taste. Shame about the acting out. I don't think any less of you for it, mind. Sometimes they go a little mad – it's nobody's fault."  
  
Ignis nodded stiffly at the man's friendly laugh. With a pat on the back, he urged Ignis forward to stand behind Prompto's glistening, shaking shoulderblades. A line of sweat had traveled beneath his collar and down his back. Ignis could smell Besithia's accursed body oil with each inhale.  
  
He wanted nothing more than to vanish into the carpet. But he raised his arm, and swung the paddle toward his friend's heaving back.


	7. Chapter 7

The conversation picked up above him, Ignis's hand leaving the back of his neck for a moment to emphasize some comment with a gesture. When the familiar touch returned, Prompto pressed his head into it. Whatever Ignis said, the other men in their half-circle of seats had burst into excitable response. One had big, meaty hands the size of knee pads, and used them now to wave Ignis off dismissively. Prompto could have sworn he felt a breeze against his nose.   
  
Thankfully, after extricating his sagging body from the bondage rack, Ignis had allowed him to kneel against the side of his chair. Prompto pressed into it at an uncomfortable angle, leaning slightly to keep his stinging backside off the ground or the backs of his heels. Unfortunately, they still faced the stage where Ignis had - had spanked him, in front of a ring of onlookers.   
  
And the man whose suggestion it was hadn't been kidding when he said it was only a warm-up. Prompto kept his eyes down, but he could still hear the sounds of whoever took a turn with the scene. He wondered if he had sounded anything like that. He couldn't remember. The party had transformed somehow. The lights no longer seemed as bright as before. Looming on all sides, the fully-dressed men who surrounded him in their expensive suits seemed tall as giants. The other slaves' costumes had seemed at best kind of hot, at worst a weird indulgence, but now Prompto found himself consumed by the knowledge that he _couldn't take it off_.   
  
Under the skintight fabric, his skin crawled with his own silence. He occasionally caught glimpses of the other activities of the men in the spotlit area. His heart hadn't stopped racing since the moment he dropped that drink.  
  
But Prompto had been sitting at Ignis's side for a long time. The party had gradually but surely died down, and as Prompto shifted slightly in position, wincing as he bumped his ass, another of Ignis's group bid farewell and walked away.  
  
Ignis's touch hadn't left him for more than a moment since the beating. Now as Ignis stood he felt a slight tug against his leash, which had dangled forgotten from his collar all night.  
  
Ignis had whispered something to him when he collected him from the rack, an apology, he assumed, but Prompto had been blinking back tears and dizzy from shock, in pain, half-hard and terrified that he'd be turned around for the crowd and noticed. Then Ignis had made him crawl, not walk, to the chair, just like at dinner. Prompto wasn't positive he'd have been able to stand either way.   
  
Their target didn't touch him again, didn't even stick around to see him brought down; he'd vanished somewhere between the fifth and eighth blows and didn't reappear until Ignis had both started and ended several sensitive conversations at the armchairs. The guy had been milking his cohort of Niff bigshots for gossip all night with no contact, so when Besithia seemed to spring up out of nowhere, Prompto witnessed just an instant of hesitation in Ignis's next step, before he flicked his wrist and jerked Prompto's leash roughly without warning.   
  
Prompto choked and stumbled forward. Then he caught himself, and bowed at the waist to Besithia, hoping that would seem sufficiently deferent. Their target spoke to Ignis.  
  
"I was just looking for you," Besithia said. Somehow his voice sounded even more nasally than before. Prompto tried to think of what he'd say about it if they ran into this guy on the battlefield. _Like nails on a chalkboard_. Prompto could feel the man's eyes on him even as he addressed Ignis. The leather band around his neck felt tighter and tighter as he struggled to squeeze out slow, even breaths. _Oh, gods._ He'd forgotten the reason they were at the party in the first place.  
  
"Research Chief," Ignis said. "Thank you for your earlier demonstration. I apologize for this one's behavior."  
  
"No trouble," Besithia said. His beard stuck out every which way in dry white tufts against the midnight blue of his formal robe and suit. "I have come now to collect the boy."  
  
"I rather assumed you had lost interest," Ignis replied, keeping the leash tight in his hand. Prompto allowed himself the slimmest stirring of hope.  
  
"Nonsense. Did you think so little of my enthusiasm last night?"  
  
"I can arrange for more orderly entertainment, just as well-suited to your tastes."  
  
Besithia's slimy tone turned brittle. "What are you insinuating, Tenebraean?"  
  
"Only my own embarassment, I'm afraid." Ignis's voice rumbled down Prompto's spine. His fist remained resolutely shut. Prompto wanted to shake the leash, tug his sleeve, something, but remained impassive as a potted plant. His ass still throbbed against the tugging material of his shorts. _Iggy, back off._ He was going to blow their cover if he kept this up.  
  
Besithia held out his hand imperiously.   
  
Ignis stared at it, almost incredulously, but handed Prompto's leash over. He pressed the slender strap of leather into Besithia's outstretched palm, and with careful deliberation, retracted his hand and bowed.  
  
Witnessing this brattish exchange from the eye of the storm, Besithia seemed nothing more than any of the impotent, middle-aged, nasty customers to which Prompto had ever sold a burger. This tantrum was already a far cry from the chatty, sadistic showman of just hours before. But of course, that had been in front of a crowd. Now, they stood alone before him.  
  
Prompto wondered which Besithia he'd be expected to kneel for shortly, behind closed doors. And whether Ignis was considering the same thing.  
  
"Off you go, then," Ignis said. He pressed his fingers into the small of Prompto's back, pushing him forward. Prompto stood before Besithia, who had snatched up the leash as soon as Ignis released his grip.  
  
" _Thank_ you, young man," Besithia said. "I'll have him returned to your door when time's up."  
  
"Enjoy your evening, with my compliments." Ignis spoke in a low voice. "Should you _need_ anything, _remember_ that I am only a phone call away."  
  
Besithia seemed to drag out each interaction as the man said his goodbyes, pulling the leash without a thought. More than a few guests commented on his new attachment.   
  
Prompto found his head turned this way and that for the amusement of Besithia's companions, his teeth and lips poked and prodded at. They spoke to the only woman in real clothes Prompto had seen all night, who waved aside Besithia's invitation to touch and said she "didn't care for them so _old_ ," her mouth pursed in sour disapproval. One man even gave his still-tender butt a smack, which surprised from him a sharp yelp. Prompto practically shook in relief when at last, Besithia waved his personal slave over from the wall and announced his retirement.   
  
A few of the guests raised their drinks to the host. When they passed the group closest to the door, Prompto caught a glimpse of a familiar pair of shoes. He knew without looking that Ignis's eyes had followed them every step of the way.


	8. Chapter 8

Turned out Besithia got him on his knees the minute they reached his suite. Prompto didn't even have a chance to do more than glance into the room, bigger and fancier than their own for sure. The man stomped his way across the threshold, Prompto struggling to keep up enough for slack on the lead, and taken a seat on a low, plush sofa with an ugly blue pattern. Besithia hadn't even bothered to remove his shoes, seizing Prompto by the scruff of the neck and dragging him down between his spread knees with an unyielding iron strength.   
  
Prompto bit his tongue as a spike of hot pain traveled up his spine from his bruised rear. For the second time that night, he was forced to reconsider the guy's deal. Though his arms were lean and wiry, skin plastered to its contents with age, now that Prompto was getting a proper look, Verstael Besithia's neck was corded with muscle that disappeared beneath his shirt collar, a tip as to the man's deceptive strength.  
  
His entire face hung from daggerlike cheekbones. Age lines crisscrossed his eyes, forehead and mouth, which gravity had dragged downward into a perpetual curl. Prompto found himself staring directly into ice-cold eyes under Besithia's stiff brows. What he saw froze Prompto to the rug.  
  
Besithia snapped his fingers before Prompto's nose. Prompto flinched, blinking.  
  
"Get to work," Besithia said. He yanked at the collar again, pressing Prompto's face into his groin.  
  
Prompto squirmed in his hold, wheezing for breath around the collar. He tugged at it, and had his hand swatted away fro his efforts. Besithia's grip didn't let up until Prompto was unbuttoning his pants with shaking fingers, at which point he let go completely, causing an unprepared Prompto to bump his nose against his bony thigh. His ass still throbbed. He could do this. He could do this. This was fine. He just... hadn't expected so little time to process. This was really happening, wasn't it?  
  
When Prompto had pulled Besithia from his drawers with two hands, the man wasted no time in wrapping one broad gloved hand around the back of Prompto's neck, and shoving himself against the boy without ceremony.  
  
Prompto opened his mouth when Besithia shook him. The man didn't stop shaking him until Prompto stuck out his tongue and attempted to lap in the direction of the loose, wrinkled skin of Besithia's flaccid penis now rubbing against his cheek, nose, and eyelid. Prompto felt the press of the slowly-stiffening dick against his face as it rubbed back and forth beneath its foreskin. His low testicles brushed Prompto's neck with every swing.  
  
Prompto kept moving his hands. First in his lap, then on the ground. He clenched and unclenched his fists as Besithia continued to use his face for a masturbation aid. His cock stiffened up gradually, revealing a narrow length and wide pink head that peeked out of its sleeve every time it bumped against Prompto's eyebrow. Besithia snarled when Prompto managed to shift and one of his balls fell in the curve of the boy's mouth.  
  
Prompto gagged. He smelled like the pool locker room, or the gym at school. Sweaty, and sour, and thick in Prompto's nostrils. He sucked at Besithia's sack before the man had a chance to hit him again, and the old man grunted with each thrust.  
  
After a few more minutes of this, Besithia seemed to decide it was time to move on, adjusted his grip with a second hand, and started fucking Prompto's mouth instead. On the first thrust, the head of his cock missed the boy's mouth entirely and slipped across his cheek, but Prompto chased it up with his mouth and sucked it before Besithia could choke him again.  
  
Besithia forced most of his cock down Prompto's throat, fingers digging into the back of Prompto's neck as he spluttered and choked against a dense mouthful of wiry white pubes. He stopped moving Prompto, held him in place this time as he fucked in shallow thrusts against the boy's mouth. The increasing drool and aggressive motion filled the room with the most vulgar wet sound, sucking and smacking. Prompto felt his face turn hot as he realized Besithia's slave was probably standing right there. He coughed against the flesh in his throat and it came out as a stifled gargle.  
  
The warm skin of the man's cock dragged over his wet lips in a new rhythm. He was just starting to come down from the initial panic at the suddenness of it all, think he could deal with this, it wasn't so bad after all, when salt burst on his tongue like an electric shock. He squirmed around Besithia's dick, the man's arm not shifting a single centimeter. It was all Prompto could do to keep from retching. The head continued to leak precum in tiny spurts while Besithia dragged it in and out of Prompto's throat.   
  
It hadn't been like this in his head. The roof of his mouth felt raw and ruined. He kept jerking in place when Besithia's cock hit the back of his throat in a spot he just _knew_ was bruising inside him. His stomach kept seizing with the reflex to puke all over it. His eyes watered, and he knew his face would be bright red and splotchy in the mirror, bangs plastered against his head. Just like that, his universe had been temporarily reduced to the throb of Besithia's cock on his tongue. Besithia still made no noise, save for the occasional low sound of exertion under his breath.  
  
He couldn't believe he'd been fantasizing about Ignis doing _this_ to him. About doing this for Ignis. This wasn't what he thought it would be. His neck hurt, his knees hurt, his butt hurt. Besithia's crotch stunk of old moisture. The wet sounds coming from Prompto's mouth embarassed him. His nose and mouth felt all scratched up from being rubbed back and forth against the coarse hair there. He couldn't even move. This was all about Besithia's pleasure and nothing to do with him. He barely played a part in this, like he was just a piece of meat to jerk off into.  
  
It wasn't what he'd prepared for at all.  
  
Besithia gripped him in place as he grunted and came without warning down his throat, Prompto's eyes stinging. Forced to swallow, he coughed and heaved and sucked at Besithia's cock while thrashing against his hold to no avail. Viscous white fluid dripped from his nose and bottom lip in an ugly mess when Besithia finally pulled Prompto's face off of his length. Another strand of clinging cum stretched from Besithia's cockhead to Prompto's numb nose.  
  
Prompto just stared at the thing when Besithia slapped the end of it against the boy's swollen lower lip. When a reaction didn't come quick enough, he gripped at the collar again and Prompto quickly tried to appease him, leaning forward and sucking the flagging member clean, licking at the base of the man's stomach where his nose had left smears.  
  
Once satisfied, Besithia again released him without warning, relaxing back into the couch, cock still hanging out at half mast. He waved a hand and Prompto jerked in surprise as Besithia's personal slave appeared to his right, retrieving Prompto's leash from the floor. The boy's expression remained impassive at the sight of the mess on Prompto's face. He tugged Prompto to his feet and across the room.  
  
What had just happened? Was that it? How much time had that even taken? The abrupt transition disoriented Prompto to the point that he almost missed Besithia's slave leading him straight to the bathroom.  
  
"Clean that up and get him ready," Besithia ordered from the couch, scrolling through something on a personal tablet. "I'll take him on the bed in a moment."

Besithia's slave wasted no time in leading Prompto to the bathroom and walking him by pulled-back curtains into a shower stall. He turned the shower dial and Prompto jumped under the stream of cold water. It warmed up a bit as the slave passed a washcloth and bar of hotel soap to him and waited.  
  
Red and growing redder, Prompto tried to wipe his face off quickly and step back out, but the other boy barred his path.  
  
"Look, this is a misunderstanding," he whispered. "I was only supposed to - My -"  
  
The next thing he knew, he was on the floor, the back of his skull throbbing. Besithia's slave had a hand raised.  
  
The message was clear. _Be quiet_. He realized suddenly that in this room, he was outranked by this boy just as much as Besithia himself. The boy jerked his chin, this time clearly directed at Prompto's attire. _Take it off._  
  
He tried again. "My mas - master only sent me for - for _that_ ," Prompto protested weakly, childishly, stomach sinking to his toes. His halting use of the honorific, so thrilling the day before, tasted bitter in his mouth. The impassive response of his only witness told him everything he needed to know.   
  
But he and Ignis had predicted this might happen. He had a script ready for this exact outcome. He just had to stick to it.  
  
"He'll be angry," he tried.  
  
"Your master," Besithia droned from just outside the bathroom, "Has given me liberty to do with you as I please for the evening."  
  
So the old guy had heard everything from out there.   
  
Prompto flattened himself against the wall of the shower stall as Besithia entered. But the man didn't spare a glance for him, instead rummaging with an array of medication and supplement bottles on the sink. At some point he had put his cock away. His slave stepped towards Prompto, who squirmed backwards again as the boy's hands fumbled for the bottom hem of his tight top.   
  
How was this happening? Didn't Ignis say he'd back off for another owner? Could Besithia be telling the truth?  
  
The water, still running, pounded against his side. It made a muted drumming sound with the tile of the shower wall. Prompto's head had room for nothing else. What could he possibly say?   
  
What had Ignis told him?  
  
"He said I'm only for him," Prompto whispered.  
  
Besithia's bark of a laugh cut through him like a lance to the spine. "I can see why this one is his favorite," he said. "What a thoughtful gift."  
  
The boy had coaxed Prompto's arms up until his shirt slipped over them, leaving Prompto to duck out of the constrictive material, and turned his attentions to pulling down the shorts instead.   
  
Prompto reflexively grabbed at the hands, but Besithia's slave simply let go, Prompto realized, to leave him to remove them himself. Somehow that was worse, and he huddled into himself under the stream of lukewarm water, inched them off bit by bit as slowly as he could, trying to block his genitals from view. Thankfully, the boy didn't look twice at the bands on his ankles and wrists. In this moment, that was the one thing Prompto knew for certain might send him past the point of no return.  
  
The slave lathered up the washcloth and rubbed Prompto down, washing his back, then moving lower. Prompto hissed as the cloth chafed against his ass, and jumped when the other boy took his limp package in hand to scrub. The slave looked at him, and although his face betrayed no reaction, Prompto interpreted the glance as if to say, _Really?_  
  
His chest and face received a brisk rubbing as well, and the slave held him by the very start of the leash close to his neck to force his head in place beneath the stream. For a few minutes Prompto shivered and spit under the water, and then it shut off.  
  
At some point Besithia had left the bathroom, he realized as he grabbed the fresh towel from the other boy's hands, desperate to preserve at least a scrap of dignity in drying himself off.   
  
In that time Besithia's slave returned with a bottle of the same scented oil he'd worn earlier, and Prompto held his breath. They rubbed him down in an awkward sort of tag-team. Prompto's face burned, the humiliation of complying with his own debasement somehow lesser than allowing it all just to be done _to_ him.  
  
Too quickly, he was soft and crisp-smelling all over, and Prompto's throat burned against the soggy collar with grim realization when Besithia's slave gripped the back of his neck, marched him to the sink, and pressed him face-forward into the counter.  
  
He squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed down the rising terror in his gut as he felt a slender, oil-slick finger push at his asshole. Prompto tensed against the pressure, but the digit slid in without much trouble. Suddenly, stupidly, all he could think about was how dirty it might be in there, that he was glad he hadn't eaten anything since breakfast.  
  
What was he going to do? Could this really be happening?  
  
Iggy had said he could call. But he'd also said Besithia would only touch him, and maybe ask for his mouth. None of this was happening the way Iggy had explained it. Maybe he could defuse the situation, explain things to Besithia, get them another in. Or maybe he'd ruin the whole mission.  
  
 _What's that? You boys didn't get the data? Well, you see, Marshal, my partner was just really uncomfortable. He didn't feel ready to sleep with our target. Yes, the guy who agreed to get in his bed. Oh, I know, Marshal. Too bad that kingdom of ours is in trouble. I'm sorry, was in trouble. But Prompto's_ feel _ings, you know how it is._  
  
Two fingers curled slightly inside him now, stroking just inside the rim. Prompto bit his lip, breathing in and out through his nose. _This isn't so bad. This isn't so bad. Thisisntsob-_  
  
The boy pulled both out, and Prompto gasped. Then he was penetrated again, with an additional third finger. Prompto shifted to try and move his elbow out from where it had gotten pinned under him. The silent slave ground his head more painfully against the cool stone beside the sink.   
  
Prompto stilled and allowed himself to be worked open by the other boy's greasy, methodical touch, mouth hanging partially open as he stretched open from the inside. To his embarassment, he was growing hard between his legs from the attention, and Prompto let out a soft cry as the slave's blunt fingertips pressed just barely against a sensitive spot inside, teasing him on each pass.   
  
It happened again, and again, resolving into a low, desperate whine. He wanted to lift his hand to stifle the sound, but even without the threat of violence he felt disconnected from his limbs by the sensation of the hand slipping mechanically in and out of his spread hole.  
  
Prompto was leaking precum and gasping against the counter, his upper body painted with a bright red flush, by the time Besithia's boy withdrew his fingers for good. He stepped silently around Prompto's legs to wash his hands off in the sink.  
  
Even after being released, Prompto remained in place, cheek and chest uncomfortably squished against unforgiving icy stone and ass hanging out in the air. He felt his hole twitching, clenching around itself in the absence of something more. Prompto's entire body shuddered in its place. If anything, his dick grew harder.  
  
The slave dried his hands and grabbed Prompto's collar once again, pulling him back to his feet. The world seemed to tip from side to side with each step as the hand on his leash led him across the room, past where Besithia sat on the couch, still intent on his screen.  
  
The boy positioned him on all fours on the bed, aching ass in the direction of the door, and then pushed face-down to push his rear in the air and his torso flat against the soft surface. Prompto let his knees be jostled apart, automatically acquiescing to the other boy's slightest touch, an oceanic roar in his ears.   
  
Even with an audience of one he felt so exposed, and more than that - he knew Besithia would take his pleasure here the same way he'd taken it from his mouth, not sensual but practically animal. He was here to be a hole, attached to an inconvenient body. If he wanted to see this through to the end, that was all he could allow himself to be.  
  
Before leaving the room, Besithia's slave tugged Prompto's head back by the hair. A gag was fit between his teeth. When he let go, Prompto's forehead dropped, sunk into the covers, as he waited for the man in the other room with shaking legs spread.


	9. Chapter 9

A knock sounded against the hotel room door. Ignis glanced up from his crossword puzzle for a moment, and back down. Then he remembered that Prompto, absent, wouldn't jump up to answer it; Ignis had ordered the meal delivered specifically to offer upon his friend's return.  
  
Verstael Besithia was the last thing Ignis had expected to open the door to. And behind him, Prompto, leash dangling freely, seemingly appropriately debauched and damp from a shower - _how considerate_ , Ignis thought to himself of Besithia, tasting poison - but none worse for the wear.   
  
Save the rubber bridle jammed between the boy's teeth.  
  
"Amicus," Besithia greeted him. " _So_ glad you're awake. I've come to make a delivery."  
  
"I hadn't known you were in the habit of managing such details so... personally," Ignis said, refusing to look at or even acknowledge Prompto. He would not provide any more fuel than necessary to whatever humiliation Besithia sought to visit upon the man with this little scene. His friend stood just at Besithia's shoulder, head bowed, flattened hair obscuring his expression. "To what do I owe such an honor?"  
  
"Just seeing to it that our _favorite_ toy is returned safely to its chest," Besithia said, tipping his head to the side and lifting both arms. "As you can see, his barking was a turn-off. I took the liberty of protecting the boy - from his own unfettered tongue."   
  
"We all have our bad days," Besithia said. "But I can think of one - teeny - tiny - suggestion to improve the boy's behavior. If I may."  
  
"May you?" Ignis managed to spit out.  
  
"I just _knew_ we'd see eye to eye," Besithia said without pause, the creases of his face momentarily inverted by a devilish grin. "A simple apology shall suffice. And _I_ can show you just how to receive it."  
  
Prompto shifted in place, the first he'd moved since Ignis opened the door. Ignis caught a glimpse of his eyes, wide and fixed on a spot somewhere near Chief Besithia's knee.  
  
"Well then?" Ignis said to Prompto. "Apologize for your tongue."  
  
Prompto's expression contorted around the gag. Besithia leaned towards him. "I'f forry," he mumbled around the object.  
  
Besithia wouldn't have come all this way personally, only to leave them alone before he'd seen this through. To whatever satisfaction it delivered.   
  
"A _sincere_ apology," Ignis said. "It sounds as though you've been very rude to the Research Chief tonight." Besithia's eyes narrowed. Ignis swallowed. _Forgive me, Prompto._ "Now, what will you do to show him you're sorry?"  
  
Prompto hesitated, looking from one to the other without raising his gaze. He slowly lowered himself until he sat upright on his knees. He looked back in Ignis's direction.  
  
"A little lower, I'd say," Besithia quipped.  
  
Prompto's arms shook as he closed the distance to the floor. He pressed his forehead to the ground at Besithia's feet.  
  
His muffled apology against the hall carpet was unintelligible. Ignis watched Prompto's bare back tremble where he'd fallen.   
  
He snapped his gaze back to Besithia's. "To your satisfaction?" he asked.  
  
"Categorically." Besithia's eyes glinted with something Ignis could not name.  
  
"Then I'll bid you good night," he said. Besithia offered a teasing bow of the head and pivoted on his heel. His footsteps soon retreated down the hall.  
  
Ignis crouched at Prompto's side where the young man remained genuflected against the hallway. He quelled the instinct to help him up, instead reaching for the leash where it had fallen. "Come now," he said, for the benefit of Besithia's receding ears, as he quickly unfastened the gag around Prompto's head. "Get in."  
  
Prompto followed wordlessly into their room without dropping his mask, only raising a hand to wipe once at the corner of his mouth. Ignis led him to sit on the edge of the bed. He turned to close and lock the door, when another loud knock sounded.   
  
Both jumped at the noise. Ignis reflexively reached for the handle, but remembered himself just in time. He stepped away, looking to Prompto, who was staring at the door with a grim set to his jaw.  
  
"Answer it," Ignis hissed, when it was clear Prompto would not do so himself. Prompto flinched as though struck, but peeled himself from the bed to answer the door. Upon closing it, he slapped the latch into place, palm knocking against the wall with an audible _thud_.  
  
"It's for you," Ignis said. Prompto looked down at the tray in his other hand as though only just registering its existence. "A simple daggerquill dish. I thought you might be hungry, after-"  
  
"Why didn't you _warn_ me!?"   
  
Prompto's shout came just before the crash of the meal as he dropped it to the ground. Ignis blanched.  
  
"I'm afraid - I - I don't know what -"  
  
Prompto stepped over the mess to back Ignis up against the doors of the coat closet, until he had nowhere left to retreat. His shoulderblades pressed into hard mirror. Prompto, heedless, grabbed a fistful of Ignis's shirt.  
  
Ignis stared at the fabric wrinkling in his grasp. Prompto shook him. He looked up.  
  
"Did you know what he was going to do?" Prompto said, eyes ringed with red, damp bangs against his forehead. "Did you _know_?"  
  
Ignis still didn't have a picture; the pieces lay in front of him but he hadn't the first clue how to put them together to make sense of this. He slowly drew his hand up to rest against Prompto's, only to have it struck aside. "Prompto, what's this?"  
  
His friend's grip tightened. "You said he wouldn't touch me if I said you said so - You said he wouldn't listen to me, but he'd listen to you. Well, guess what?" Prompto's eyes darkened beneath the weight of his lowered brows. Ignis paled.  
  
"Gods, Prompto," he said.  
  
"Is it true?" Ignis could do no more than hold still as Prompto shook him again. And again. His head knocked against the mirrored surface. The flimsy sliding door shook as Prompto pulled him away and slammed him back against it. "Did you tell that bastard to _take what he wanted_ and tell me everything was gonna be okay?"  
  
"I didn't, Prompto," Ignis said, anguish boiling around the words, "I would never. I have never. I didn't. Please, why didn't you call?"  
  
"Why didn't I _call_?" Prompto said, leaning into him so that they stood nose-to-nose. Despite being the taller man, Ignis could grow no smaller than in the face of that gaze. "How long did _you_ wear the collar, huh, Iggy? How many times did you just - _call_ Noct and everything was okay?"  
  
He'd never seen Prompto like this, not ever. It stung, but in that moment, a part of him welcomed the reception of his friend's pain, burning with shame and regret, his dedication to this stupid, foolish plan. And it was so stupid in hindsight. He should have seen it, should have known these men were not the same sort as the petty, impotent government officials who made up his entire breadth of knowledge.  
  
He'd been so naïve.   
  
"I swear to you," he said. Prompto's grip hitched higher. "I didn't know. _Yes_ , I. Noct always - He never - I've never - I should have realized -"  
  
"Yeah. You should have. Thanks, _buddy_."   
  
Prompto released him, and Ignis's back slipped fractionally down the mirror. He watched his friend stalk across the room with wide eyes, willing his heartbeat to still.  
  
Prompto ignored his audience, grabbing his pyjama shorts and storming into the bathroom. The door slammed shut. Ignis flinched again.  
  
He watched Prompto emerge and climb into bed before moving from his position. He knelt to pick up the contents of the tray Prompto had thrown to the floor. A dim sense of déjà vu struck him at the sight.  
  
"Leave it," came the voice from Prompto's bundle of blankets. Ignis stood back up. He just stood there, staring at the mess, until Prompto spoke again.   
  
"Come to bed."  
  
Ignis looked desperately to his own sleepwear laid out at the foot of the bed, but an eternity stretched before he dragged his leaden feet across the room and undid his buttons.  
  
He lifted the covers on his side slowly, with care, and slid underneath. He pressed a fist against his face, trying to count seconds in his head, forcing slow, even breaths. Trying to stopper the realization of just what he'd been accomplice to.  
  
The image of Prompto groveling at Besithia's feet, apologizing around his gag, came unbidden.  
  
Into the agonizing silence, Prompto finally spoke. His voice was raw and rough, bitter against Ignis's ears.  
  
"You didn't know," he said. The vise around Ignis's ribcage only tightened in response.  
  
"It's no excuse," Ignis said. "You trusted me, and I betrayed that trust in the most despicable manner. You have every right to be angry."  
  
Prompto sighed next to him, seemingly drained of the anger from before. The covers rustled as he rolled over. Ignis remained where he was, closed eyes pressed against white knuckles.  
  
"I still trust you," Prompto said.  
  
"You really shouldn't," Ignis replied before he could stop himself.  
  
"I do."  
  
Ignis's entire body folded in on itself at that.  
  
"I don't know how to deal with it right now," Prompto said around the hoarseness of his throat. "But I'm okay. At least, right now. I'm still going. I don't know if I ever _want_ to deal with it. I don't know if I can do this, anymore. But... we've gotta try. It'll all have been for nothing, otherwise."  
  
That seemed the sentiment of their lives, lately.  
  
"I'll keep playing my part," Prompto said. "You play yours. We'll - we need to talk, when this is all through. But I know you wouldn't - I was just - scared."  
  
Ignis didn't trust himself with any of the dozen responses that came to him unbidden. He settled for lowering his hand.   
  
"And don't hit me again," Prompto said, a yawn interrupting his sentence. "If you can help it. Iggy."  
  
"Of course not," Ignis said. "Anything."  
  
"-I'll do better," his friend continued. "And no more. You know."  
  
He sounded so empty, so exhausted. Ignis would never atone for this.  
  
"And uh, I saw the combo to his safe," Prompto added. "When we were leaving. Guess he didn't realize I was watching. So we got what we needed. But I just don't wanna go back like...like that."  
  
"Never," snapped Ignis. "You were never meant to be in danger in the first place. We'll find another way to accomplish the Marshal's mission."  
  
"Mmkay," Prompto mumbled into his pillow. "Sleep now. Plan tomorrow."  
  
"Tomorrow."  
  
Ignis had only just begun to drift when a warm weight came to rest against his side. He froze in place.  
  
"Prompto?"  
  
"...Is this alright?"  
  
"Of course," Ignis said. "Whatever you need."


	10. Chapter 10

"Dawn of the final day," Prompto sang as he passed Ignis his coffee across the table. Ignis accepted it with both hands and a word of thanks.  
  
Prompto did his best to shovel an entire platter of eggs into his mouth in one bite. The corner of Ignis's mouth tightened in disapproval out of reflex. Prompto ignored it, using his fork to push a strip of bacon on top as he chewed.   
  
His friend said nothing. Prompto had been trying all morning to lighten the mood, ask questions, and needle Ignis into a proper conversation. Every time he cracked a joke, Ignis's eyes betrayed an ugly pity that was driving Prompto crazy.   
  
He knew he was fucked up! Hell, so was Ignis. He'd be okay. They had seen some pretty rough shit in the recent past. And if Iggy could handle seeing this to the end, so could he.   
  
He wasn't going to drag the team down even further by taking time out for pointless angst.  
  
Ignis looked steadily at him over the lip of his coffee cup, probably thinking, _There you go, repressing your feelings._ Prompto stuffed a french toast stick into his mouth out of spite.  
  
After their much-needed breakfast, Ignis finally deigned to cooperate with Prompto's avoidance tactics. In some semblance of normalcy, they put their heads together to review and revise today's plan for the last time.  
  


* * *

  
  
Prompto sweated where he stood under the humid weight of the Altissian sun, jaw aching around the gag in his mouth. His hand sweated around the grip of a brightly-decorated parasol. Just in front of him, Ignis sat at a circular table of men and their attendant slaves, all similarly arranged.  
  
He'd been stupid, out of it; he hadn't dropped anything this time, at least. They'd made it smoothly through tea time and ridden with the others to an outdoor course that one of Ignis's new buddies had invited them to. But, once they were there, Ignis had made a remark. Like an idiot, not paying attention, Prompto had responded out loud without thinking.  
  
Prompto had frozen in terror the instant the words left his mouth, remembering the _discipline_ Ignis had subjected him to the day before, but Ignis salvaged the moment by calling for a gag, to silence his "heat-addled" slave.  
  
Prompto had parted his mouth and allowed Ignis to secure the thing firmly around his head in pliant cooperation, letting himself calm down. Ignis hadn't broken his word. He hadn't ruined Ignis's reputation with disobedience. The thing in his mouth stretched his lips wide and left a tiny, constant stream of drool from one corner of his mouth. It was humiliating, but it beat the alternative.  
  
He just had to behave until their game began, so he focused on watching the back of Ignis's head, ignoring the sun that beat down against his neck and made his collar itch. The rest of him was sticky and sweaty beneath the tight new outfit he'd been put in for this last day.  
  
In no time, a soft fanfare sounded from the patio speakers, and guests began standing and checking their equipment. Ignis disappeared alone with the party, leaving Prompto tied to an ornamental iron fence alongside a few of the others. Like at the Totomostro game, the other people kneeling beside Prompto didn't appear to be looking at their surroundings or each another.  
  
At first, Prompto took the opportunity to mentally review their plan for the night. They'd be here a little longer, then Iggy planned for them to make an appearance at a rooftop event before dinner. After that, there was only the last party with the creepy sadist gentlemen's club, which was to be held somewhere offsite, and the best event of them all, according to Ignis's questionable new friends.   
  
The original plan had involved Prompto luring Besithia away at the party and slipping him something debilitative. They'd revised it so that he would be staying behind and getting into the man's room under the same pretenses as the night before, searching the safe in his absence. Ignis would occupy his attention at the party and make sure the drive wasn't being carried on Besithia's person, and Prompto wouldn't have to worry about suffering unexpected public abuse.   
  
Or getting anywhere near the man.   
  
For now, all he had to do was endure the heat and boredom, and try not to fall too deep into his own head.  
  
He yawned and started to doze off against the metal.  
  
Prompto jolted upright at a tug against his leash. He'd fallen asleep. He frowned and looked to where Ignis had secured it to the bars.  
  
To his shock, Verstael Besithia's personal slave held the end, standing beside the man himself.  
  
"Where are we going? You don't have permission to do this," Prompto tried to say as he dragged his feet at the end of the lead. Before he could think, he was being led across the green towards the valet parking circle.   
  
All the carefully-suffocated images, sounds, smells of the previous night filled his head against his will. Through the gag stuffed between his lips, the boy's protests only emerged as so many distorted grunts.  
  
Besithia continued to walk forward, carelessly, the blond slave dragging Prompto forward by the neck whether or not he kept up himself.  
  
They led him to a massive parked car, not unlike the Regalia but larger and fancier, like the one Noct and the King took to state functions.  
  
Both the boy holding his leash and the old man didn't bother acknowledging his protests. Besithia held out a palm for Prompto's leash, which the slave handed to him before turning to open the door.  
  
The spacious interior of the car reminded Prompto of some of the shots he'd taken at his high school prom. Noct'd skipped, and Prompto didn't have a date, so he'd made a few bucks doing photography. The rental limousines a few classmates had pulled up in were sort of like this car. But, like, only in the way a fast food burger could be sort of like one Ignis had made from scratch. Dark leather seating, lights lining the ceiling, the whole look.  
  
Against the spacious interior a man in a white uniform sat, legs out carelessly, talking on the phone. When Besithia's slave opened the door, the man glanced at them, said something into the device, and ended the call, resting in hand on his lap.  
  
Prompto, nose flaring and contracting, felt the broad, flat, hand of the man behind him pushing against his back.   
  
He stumbled forward, coming face to face with the gnarled, drooping jowls...  
  
...of Research Chief Verstael Besithia.


	11. Chapter 11

"What's this?" the second Besithia asked.   
  
Prompto felt a low chuckle against the back of his neck. His blood ran cold. Prompto turned his head.   
  
A familiar ratty scarf brushed the tip of his nose.  
  
"Verstael, Ver _sta_ el," drawled the low, creeping voice of Ardyn Izuna against Prompto's ear. "You need only ask, old friend, and the empire I will lay at your feet."  
  
Besithia replied with an exasperated scoff.  
  
"Ardy _mmmph–_!" Prompto shouted into the gag.   
  
Ardyn cut him off with a fraternal pat against the shoulderblades. The impact set him stumbling forward, even as he tried to turn and face the Nif chancellor, reaching out for his weapons. But the man was upon him before he could blink.  
  
"Up you go, now," Ardyn said, digging his thumbs into each of Prompto's wrists. The boy shouted and involuntarily let go. His firearms tumbled to the ground.   
  
Ardyn gripped the collar and hoisted Prompto in the direction of the seated research chief. Prompto threw his arms out to grab at the lip of the chassis, fighting against the other's attempts to shove him in. He reached one arm back, and tried to retrieve his handgun from the Armiger to no avail.  
  
"What's this?" Besithia asked.   
  
Prompto's fingers and toes had gone completely numb. He'd turned away as soon as he heard Ardyn's voice, and couldn't bring himself to look at the man.   
  
Besithia sighed in exasperation. "I haven't got time for your games. The night's events have yet to be finalized, and I've half a mind to call the whole thing off just to get it off of my hands."  
  
"Allow me to stand in, then, and spare yourself the trouble." Ardyn tipped his hat to the scowling old man, ignoring Prompto, who continued to squirm and struggle against the collar. "You know how I _adore_ a good midnight soirée. Speaking of..."  
  
"Incultam's pet?" Besithia cast a clinical glance over Prompto as he said it. Prompto shoved back against Ardyn, using the car for leverage.  
  
"Indeed. We're _well_ acquainted, one might say." Ardyn steered Prompto into the open door headfirst as he said it, seemingly oblivious to the boy's continued protests. "I believe you two enjoyed a little _rendez-vous_ last night."  
  
"You know that, you pest," Besithia said. "You yourself insisted on coming by to collect the boy for his master. What is this about?"  
  
"My friend," Ardyn said. He paused for dramatic effect. Prompto squirmed in his grip.   
  
When Besithia remained impassive, waiting, Ardyn continued. "Do you recall the child who was stolen from the Zegnautus facility?"  
  
"The one those Lucians absconded with?"  
  
"Precisely."  
  
 _What?_ Not the next thing he'd been anticipating from Ardyn's mouth. Prompto slackened for a moment in confusion, which was all it took for the man to urge his body over the last several inches of space to drop before Besithia's shins. Besithia was looking past him at Ardyn with new interest.  
  
"I thought you'd like to see the fine young man he's become, these twenty-odd years later."  
  
Prompto couldn't breathe. Between the gag and the collar, the heat of Ardyn's presence at his back, the gravel of his voice vibrating against Prompto's back – an overwhelming sense of suffcation gripped his throat. He tried to say something through it. The words he was hearing filtered against a buzz of white noise that filled his ears. What on earth was happening? What was this?  
  
Ardyn continued with a brisk pat against the back of Prompto's head, as though this were just a lunch date and he a nonpartisan participant. "So, as thanks for bringing your pets to Insomnia, I've brought the boy to you."  
  
He gripped a fistful of Prompto's hair, and twisted him to face Besithia properly.   
  
"Time to meet daddy dearest," he murmured. Prompto whimpered through his nose.  
  
"Go on, take a look," Ardyn said.  
  
Heedless of the boy's attempts to jerk away, Besithia first reached out with one curling hand and restrained Prompto's right arm in an unshakable grip, sneering at his attempt to pull away.   
  
He delicately peeled back Prompto's wristband. Prompto dug his teeth into the gag, as hard as he could.  
  
This was it. The worst moment of his life. Picturing how it would happen had kept him up all night, or woken him in a puddle of sweat, so many times.   
  
He hadn't slept for a week when Noctis told him Ignis was running a background check, not knowing himself what the man might find. He'd thought about runnning away, balanced the grocery money his parents had left against a bus ticket and haircut.  
  
Besithia actually let out a surprised sound as he uncovered Prompto's deepest, darkest secret.  
  
There it was. The black ink stood against his bare skin for all the world to see.  
  
Ardyn clapped his hands together as Prompto wheezed against the gag, tears coming unbidden to his wide-open eyes. Besithia's gaze landed on him now, too, for the first time with obvious interest.  
  
Shaking his head and scrabbling to back away still, he heard the door shut and felt Ardyn move closer to press up against him. The larger man's fist still tugged at his hair, his scalp on fire. Prompto could see every one of the teeth in his mouth.  
  
"Oh, how I love bringing families together."  
  
 _No... It's not true. You're wrong, dammit!_ Prompto shouted into the gag harder than ever, but the sound stoppered in his sore throat. He kept shouting and shouting, consumed by instinctive fear that overrode the knowledge no one outside would hear him, and even if they could, one look at the collar and no one would lift a finger to help.   
  
He opened his eyes. He looked desperately at Besithia's slave, kneeling across from him at the man's heels, still holding the end of Prompto's leash, but the boy remained impassively staring into the middle distance.  
  
"So it is," Besithia breathed, scowl relaxing in a moment of genuine surprise. He put down his phone and reached for Prompto's face, cupping his chin in both hands. Ardyn's, still at the back of his neck, prevented him from moving back even an inch. "A clone, one of millions belonging to the NH-series. Born of my own flesh and blood."  
  
Prompto's breakfast tried to leap back up his throat.  
  
"How curious," Besithia continued. He dragged his thumbs down Prompto's cheekbones, gaze wandering hungrily. "To think it was able to reach maturity. And without obvious signs of system failure, at that. The genius of my invention is enough to surprise even me."  
  
Prompto heaved around the gag.  
  
Besithia released him. The man leaned back again, to look past the boy at Ardyn. "You have outdone yourself again, _old friend_."  
  
"I'm afraid the boy still belongs to our dear friend Mr. _Incultam_ ," Ardyn said. Oh, shit. _Ignis._  
  
His hands had moved up to knead at Prompto's shoulders. Prompto shook off the grip, and Ardyn allowed it. He snapped his fingers, and Besithia's slave shifted. Prompto just had time to feel his leash going taught again before his chin landed against the carpet of Besithia's car. The other boy had trapped a short length of lead against the ground with both hands.  
  
"But I daresay... he's not the most well-behaved."   
  
Prompto jerked again, gasping like a fish, unable to raise his head a single inch.   
  
Ardyn laughed under his breath. He pet Prompto's hair in slow, lazy strokes as he continued to address Besithia. "Perhaps your enterprising young friend will accept a finders' fee," he said.


	12. Chapter 12

"The tip we got from a reliable source," Cor said, once they'd arranged themselves around the card table. He slid a folder across the surface to Noctis. "A former higher-up at a Lucian conglomerate that mainly deals in plastics and safety gear. Manufactured half the Glaive field equipment for generations. Turns out it's not so easy anymore to pitch _Lucian_ bulletproof vests – especially not to the same guys who ordered the bullets. After getting kicked off the guest list, he came straight to us with dirt on the rest."  
  
"So let me get this straight: he's _not_ bitter over the invasion, he's bitter because he's missing out on a party," Noct said, rolling his eyes.  
  
"And profit," Ignis said.  
  
"Aaaand _profits_ ," Noct said, raising his hands. "Great. Why are we trusting this guy again?"  
  
"There's no love lost between them," Cor said, "after the company's HQ in Insomnia got trashed by the attack. I don't doubt his motives. _He's_ a real piece of work, though. He claims these parties have a lot of shady business behind closed doors, and he's willing to foot the bill to get us inside."  
  
"A mutually beneficial arrangement," said Ignis. "How convenient."  
  
"It's not just convenient, it's serendipity," the Marshal replied. "Niflheim's Chief of Military Research is about to be in town on business. The man responsible for nearly every weapon the Empire's used in the past fifteen years. Our tipster CFO says he's got a backup copy of critical data on him at all times. Including potential vulnerabilities in the MT systems."  
  
Gladio spoke up finally. "So what, we run in, grab this guy, and give him a piece of our mind?"  
  
"Dude, I _just_ saw this in a movie," Prompto said. He leered at Gladio over the table. "Spoiler warning, the bodyguard-"   
  
Gladio immobilized the younger man's neck for a noogie, whatever wisecrack he'd been about to make swallowed by a bark of surprised laughter. Noctis rested the side of his face against his arm on the table, slumping further down.  
  
"There's another option," Cor said, after waiting patiently alongside Ignis and Noct's twin death-glares for the two to break apart. "Supposedly the man's easy to get ahold of, once you're in, and too fond of his Shiva Blanc."  
  
Noctis lifted his head. "So, infiltration?"  
  
At Cor's nod, Gladio scowled. "Dunno if you've noticed, but we ain't exactly a portrait of the Nif elite. Sir."  
  
Prompto shifted in his seat, avoiding eye contact. Ignis met Cor's look.  
  
"I can only presume the Marshal had something more _compact_ in mind for this endeavor," Ignis said.  
  
The man paused before responding. "This is the risky bit," he began, carefully. "But considering you four are headed to Altissia either way, hear me out."  
  
Moments later, Noctis was on his feet, his camp chair toppling over. "No! Absolutely not!"   
  
"Noct," Ignis said.  
  
Noctis turned to face him. "You don't have to go along with this," the prince replied. "We can - figure something out like we always do."  
  
"Be that as it may, it's still my decision to make," Ignis said. Gently.  
  
"It's _our_ job to keep _you_ out of the line of fire, Highness," Gladio added.  
  
"Hey, _I'm_ in," Prompto piped up. "I basically just gotta stand there and go along with whatever Iggy is doing, right? I can handle that."  
  
" _You_ couldn't keep a straight face when he caught us sneaking out for your birthday," Noct said. He raised an eyebrow at Cor. "You'd put _those_ acting skills to the test in enemy territory?"  
  
Prompto sputtered. "Dude!"  
  
Cor rubbed his hand across his face. "Look, first of all... when I say 'slave', what's the first image that comes to your mind?"  
  
" _Excuse_ me?" Noctis snapped.  
  
"Uh, somebody hammering a license plate?" Prompto said. The others shot him a look in unison. " _What_?"  
  
"That's all you got?" Noct said.  
  
"It was, like, one reading – in one class!"  
  
Ignis didn't miss the sidelong glance Gladio gave him down the kitchen counter. He made no move to respond.  
  
"Excuse to deny people basic human dignity?" Gladio said to Cor's original question, rolling his shoulders. "Citadel staff? Collars? What're we supposed to be guessing, here?"  
  
"I agree with you all, on principle," Cor said, lifting his hands. "But that's what I mean. When it comes to these people, we're not talking about folding laundry and collecting trash."  
  
"Like it's not just as bad at home?" Noct said. "What, there's an ' _okay_ ' version? The law makes it okay? Tenebrae outlawed slavery thirty years before the invasion. It’s disgusting, and embarassing, that we didn't do the same.” Noct said, slapping his hand down on the folder. Gladio shrugged in agreement.   
  
"Most of Insomnia's enslaved are debtors and their children, indentured to the state," Ignis said quietly. "These people are wealthy enough to keep personal companions, which is... less common."  
  
"At least in Lucis," Gladio said, glowering at the Marshal.  
  
"P- _personal companion_?" Prompto squeaked.  
  
"Like high-class escorts," Noctis said. "Except for, you know, the enslavement."  
  
Prompto turned bright red.   
  
Ignis interrupted before they could lose the thread of conversation. “Well put. Now, how do you find that report so far?”  
  
“I’m reading, I’m reading it, bite me,” Noct waved a smirking Ignis away over the camp chair, opening the documents Cor had provided.   
  
Stepping back from the prince, Ignis raised an eyebrow at Prompto.   
  
“I won’t pretend to be entirely comfortable with this, myself,” he admitted. “I do think it may be worth our time to investigate, if nothing else. I won’t ask you to agree. You needn’t say anything but ‘no’.”  
  
“No,” Prompto said. Ignis nodded, and he sputtered, “No, I mean like- wow, not _no_ , at least, maybe, it sounds like this could work, b-but I need to think about it for more than a minute, I think?”  
  
"Very well," Ignis said. "Let's discuss a bit longer and give the Marshal his answer in the morning. Marshal?"  
  
"That's fine," Cor said. "It's a lot to ask. Take your time to think it over. But we're low on both options and time, so the sooner, the better."  
  
Prompto nodded at the Marshal in frantic agreement. The motion vibrated through the crown of his hairdo. "Yessir, can do."  
  
Ignis saw Noct glance back to him, body language poised for a question. He pretended not to see.   
  
"Actually, you know what? If he's in, I'm in, let's do it." Prompto seemed to have gathered his courage in a matter of minutes. "Anything to help the war effort."  
  
"Hey. This isn't a monster bounty. If you're not sure, you can give it a little longer," Noctis said.  
  
"Nah, man. Besides, me and Iggy? Like a well-oiled machine." He grinned at Ignis, whose pulse quickened at the attention.  
  
Ignis smiled in return. "Slick as a whistle."


	13. Chapter 13

First contact with their target arrived sooner than Ignis had anticipated. He and Prompto had dressed that morning and been driven to the resort by Gladio in a rental vehicle, where they proceeded inside, Prompto seeing after the luggage in a cacophony of bare limbs.   
  
Ignis, growing hot in the face at least partially due to the curious gazes they faced in the lobby, questioned the viability of this plan once again.  
  
Atop the spinning patterns of the carpet, he felt like a particularly obvious and juvenile impostor, with his hair in his face and a bespoke black suit. The soft gloves that encased his entire hands to the wrist provided the same sensation as if he'd wrapped each individual finger in a layer of cotton padding, and were just as convenient with which to navigate his unfamiliar wallet. Prompto, on the other hand...  
  
Ignis chanced a look to his right, and swallowed heavily. His friend stood in an informal slouch, tapping his fingertips idly against his sides, shifting unconsciously as they waited, eyes darting back and forth as he forgot again the simplest of instructions. Prompto seemed at least to be attempting to rein himself in, but the performance so far had not inspired Ignis's confidence.  
  
 _"Do not look free men or women in the eye, or speak unless spoken to." Ignis said. "Do not go anywhere without me, or take any independent action without permission. If you must speak, address me as 'sir' whenever possible."  
  
His friend turned to look at him, gaping, phone sliding from a slackened grip. The black leather collar hung open against Prompto's collarbone, where he had been idly trying it on. The smartphone landed face-up next to Prompto. An open camera app reflected the ceiling of the caravan.  
  
"Keep in mind those guidelines, and nothing you do will seem out of place." Ignis did his best to mask his growing anxieties with a frown, adjusting his glasses. Unhelpfully, Prompto shut his mouth instead of responding. "It may aid us to observe others in the same position, as we encounter them."_  
  
He'd have to swallow his discomfort and have a serious conversation with Prompto once they reached the room. That was, assuming he could look at his friend for more than a moment without breaking into a hot sweat.  
  
The costume did things to Ignis that he hadn't known were possible. His friend's shoulders and arms remained bare, a familiar (and admittedly welcome) sight. The lean muscles of his forearms sometimes tensed with the expressions of his hands, and thanks to his sparse attire, Ignis saw a similar tensing in the shallow curves of Prompto's stomach. His firm thighs occupied the volume of the tight black shorts. When Prompto turned, the exact profile of his soft length pressed through the fabric.  
  
At once Ignis turned away, his underarms perspiring. Cold shame and reprehension washed into the pit of his stomach. Prompto had agreed to don a mask as much as he had in accepting this proposal. No matter how revealing the outfit, he could not take advantage, ogling his friend to satisfy his own base fantasies. Was he no better than the men whose company necessitated such a distasteful ruse in the first place?  
  
To make matters worse, the lobby where they would collect their room details serviced all manner of guests to the resort, and Ignis had yet to see another pair like theirs. Stoking the ball of constant tension that had taken up just below his sternum, Ignis wondered if this could possibly be a sensible idea.  
  
Running into Verstael Besithia only intensified his discord. Ignis checked himself in under the fake name Cor's contact had supplied, and collected the room key. En route to the elevators, they'd turned a corner, and Prompto had been unable to quiet a sharp intake of breath at his shoulder.  
  
Besithia himself appeared physically unimpressive, characterized by the receding hairline and naturally haphazard beard of his advanced years. Two blue eyes like cut stones sat recessed into a permanent scowl above sagging under-eye bags. The sight of the leashed boy at his side, slender, golden-blond, and almost entirely in the nude, made for a mirror image of Prompto and Ignis's respective roles.  
  
Ignis drove his elbow into Prompto's side without looking. _Discreetly._  
  
He'd made short work of introductions, laying out the cover story of his recent wealth in Niflheim's territory of Tenebrae, and his recent admission to the gentlemen's club. To his surprise, Besithia extended an invitation to his private evening group without prompting. The man complimented him on the tone of his slave's body, and when an elevator arrived, graciously waved Ignis in first.  
  
By the time they reached their floor, his friend's entire body buzzed with anticipation. Ignis observed Besithia lingering at the sight of Prompto's narrow hips, the modest swell in his shorts, and restrained himself from letting out a territorial snarl. He bid the man goodbye, with a promise to continue their conversation over dinner.  
  
"I think we should make a list," Prompto whispered to him in the hallway, after waiting for two guests ahead of them to turn the corner. "The official 'Don't Blow Iggy's Cover' guide, or something."  
  
" _Shh_ ," Ignis hissed out of the corner of his mouth.  
  
"Oh, right. Sorry!"  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
 _"...I find myself recalling certain memories. Memories that haven't surfaced in a very long time."_  
  
He adjusted his tie again, and while doing so cast a morose eye over the sorry ensemble that was to be their wardrobe for the weekend. All solid colors. All buttoned up. Ties.   
  
How depressing.  
  
Prompto was singing something to himself in the hotel shower, the lyrics unintelligible over the white noise of water pounding against its four walls.   
  
Ignis recalled a wet winter's day in Insomnia. He'd been three months into Crownsguard training and facing a space problem at home. The problem of what to do about his closet and chest of drawers turned over in his head as he attended tailoring at a small local boutique by Noctis's side.  
  
Of course, that hadn't stopped him from pausing at the sight of a shimmering, emerald-green dress top as they were leaving.   
  
He couldn't say, after an hour spent masking bone-deep boredom as he accompanied Noct, what possessed him to latch onto _this_ article of all things. The dark fabric bore an embroidered petal pattern in glittering metallic thread, like so many silver fish scales.  
  
The look didn't suit him at all. Maybe because it was so loud, or because it had been placed on display.  
  
"Just get it," Noct said. His guards had come to a stop by the doors, in wait of the lingering boys.  
  
"I don't need any more clothes," he replied automatically, eyes still on the shirt. It was true. In fact, he had only this morning received brand-new Crownsguard fatigues, which were folded atop the bureau for want of somewhere to store them. Noct knew this.  
  
Every time Noctis had a new appearance which required him to be photographed in public, he would need his measurements taken and something to wear, for each of which Ignis went through the same process. His underthings and clothing for daily use had been issued automatically, with semi-annual updates to account for growth, since he had been moved into the Citadel at six.  
  
Crown policy standardized the quantity and cut of each article, and the entire set would be deposited at once upon his bed in a series of flimsy plastic bags. It was a waste, really. As his other clothing diversified, and he moved into private quarters adjacent to Noct's, Ignis might only take out socks and underpants and leave the rest sealed in his drawers for months at a time. Since his manumission and subsequent removal from Citadel inventories, their delivery had ceased entirely.  
  
Over the years, he had accumulated quite the expansive wardrobe, all of it in solid black and grey. There was simply nowhere to put it, and no one he felt he could ask who else it might be used by. And now he had a new set of Crownsguard uniforms to contend with in addition to participating marginally in Noctis's increased public profile. He needed a solution. Not _another_ shirt.  
  
 _"When would I_ wear _that?"_ he'd said to Noct at the time.  
  
At last Ignis pried his gaze from the garment, with some difficulty. Noctis shrugged, and they continued, the Prince offering a half-hearted farewell wave in the direction of the owner's eager invitation to return.   
  
Ignis checked their next engagement against his list of reminders. He opened a web search for the store's name while on his phone, almost as an afterthought.  
  
Later, squinting at the security code on his direct-deposit credit card for the first time, he used one pointer finger to carefully enter each piece of information. The numbers in the lapel of his Crownsguard jacket serving for reference, Ignis placed an online order.


	14. Chapter 14

_"Do I need to use this?"_  
  
For a moment, Ignis saw himself instead of Prompto, nineteen and formed of insecurities, about to remove another person's underwear for the first time.  
  
"Must I use this?" he'd said, raising his eyebrows as he turned the bottle over in his hand.   
  
The other man, whose name Ignis no longer could remember, had taken it back and uncapped it for him, with some surprise. "Obviously," he'd said. "You _are_ new to this." The man's eager expression betrayed that this was far from undesirable.  
  
Ignis had met the man after impulsively installing a chatting app in a fit of frustration, or perhaps internal crisis. They'd spoken for a week, and exchanged photographs. Ignis had stood in front of his bathroom mirror, drawing his shirt up, short of breath at his own nerve. Then they'd arranged to meet for a night.   
  
It had been fast. Invigorating. Utterly unlike him. They met several times over the course of three weeks, before ending it on easy terms and never contacting one another again. The other man was older, in his mid-twenties, at least if the information on his profile was to be believed. Ignis hadn't been bothered. He had been younger, more easily dazzled by the idea that an attractive older man might be attracted to him in turn.   
  
The other man hadn't been one for conversation, but he surprised Ignis with his tenderness in bed. He had been deposited against the pillows at the man's headboard and worshipped in slow, careful touches, the man content to explore every inch of him with gentle hands and mouth.   
  
They took their time before coaxing him to orgasm in turn, the man's beard brushing against his inner thigh and two fingers gently working into his asshole. When finally the touch sent him over the edge, his come landed across the man's ear, Ignis stifling gasps with one hand buried against his own mouth and the other awkwardly clasped atop the other man's shoulder.   
  
On their third date, the man guided him through it as Ignis uncapped the oil himself, spread him open and watched in fascination the reaction of another to his touch. When finally he pushed in, the other man breathed the most incredible groan of pleasure Ignis had ever heard.   
  
He'd lost himself in the heat and pressure, holding the man down on his bed with a palm against the chest as he tried to control the rut of his hips against the other. The man had laughed, had done anything for him, had brushed his bangs back from his face and freely expressed his pleasure at Ignis's touch. Ignis drank in his devotion as though addicted.  
  
On the day they ultimately decided to break it off, it quickly became clear that neither was in the mood for their usual fare. They had cast aside their plans of goodbye sex and instead made small talk about work, neither speaking in specifics, as the man massaged Ignis's shoulders and neck, hands glossy with oil. Looking back, Ignis supposed that was their own form of goodbye.  
  
He'd been responding to Prompto on autopilot while fighting to keep the memory of those private moments at bay. A feat made all the more difficult by Prompto's slick skin, and the sharp scent of Besithia's gift filling the air between them.   
  
Suddenly, Ignis felt the long road of the weekend stretching before him, Prompto on his knees and pretending at thirst for his every touch. Himself, breaking bread with these cold, unjust men, ever-shadowed by the silent figures who waited endlessly in the peripherals of their lives. All the while knowing the fact that their respective roles in this time and place had come down to a simple accident of birth. Knowing that, as soon as this farce was up, he would leave to continue their mission, and life in this other world would continue unpaused no matter which battles raged on across the ground. None of this was real. Not his own words, not Prompto's affections.  
  
He'd felt Prompto's tongue wrap eagerly against the pads of his fingers not an hour ago. He watched Prompto work the oil over a firm bicep, rubbing in brisk, rough arcs, biting his lip in concentration.  
  
It was the thought of that early memory, the stranger's mouth replaced by the lips of the young man in front of him, wrapped around the head of his cock, staring up at him through tousled bangs –  
  
"Jealous?" Prompto winked, mistaking the source of Ignis's discomfort.  
  
Ignis grimaced. He rapidly attempted to banish the image to the furthest recesses of his brain, where it could do no harm.  
  
"I'm fine, Iggy," his friend pressed, and Ignis remembered himself, diverting his attention from Prompto's bare, shining throat.  
  


* * *

  
  
_"Now, what will you do to show him you're sorry?"_  
  
Gods. What on earth had Prompto done? What had _Besithia_? He couldn't bear to watch as Prompto lowered himself to trembling knees, knowing that of all the cruelties visited upon the young man this past day, this must have been the lowest blow of all. Did Besithia make a habit of these demonstrations? Was he really so sick as to derive his pleasure from this debasement? What did he seek to gain?  
  
Ignis's skin itched with the knowledge of his own poisonous, secret thoughts. His ignorance had been dishonest, even to himself. He understood very well what Besithia gained from demanding an innocent man beg. The violence in him mirrored itself in Besithia's, despite their difference in age and moral boundary, and he felt wickedly, irreparably sick at the insight. But even he knew that the things he wanted – sometimes – from another, in the darkest, most disgusting part of him, were things he could never truly take pleasure in if extracted by force.  
  
And, perhaps in extension of this complex he had around his shameful inner nature, Ignis hated ritualized apologies as a rule. Or perhaps it was because he'd never seen the point. Rarely were such regrets sincere, and it served no better purpose than to reinforce obedience and foster unecessary shame. As a child, he hated to be made to grovel for appeasement. As punishment, maybe, for his youth or his proximity to the royal family or both, members both of staff and of court had taken their petty amusement from his inability to deny them on more than one occasion, a lesson in impotence.   
  
More aggravating to Ignis, however, were the occasions during which he carried the authority of the interaction. He resented the circumstances which forced his hand in the matter. He relished the thrill of administering words meant to punish, without chance of rebuttal. He rejected his own obsession with it.  
  
In his third year since enlisting, despite his priority being to Noct, he'd soared to a leadership role within his unit. Already achieving top marks in academics, the ability to use the training facilities after hours had given him something to fill what spare hours he had, when endless rows of dense text could no longer hold his focus. From Noct's lessons with Gladio, where Lord Amicita occasionally made an appearance, he absorbed a new understanding of fundamental technique. As a result, he was frequently put in charge of training exercises.  
  
 _"Apologize," he ordered the two shame-faced recruits before him after breaking up a fight. They'd taken one look at him, straight-backed and steely with a lashing on his tongue, and stammered out their excuses with wide eyes.  
  
"With _sincerity _," he corrected. He was met by a pair of ardent apologies. The young guards fell over themselves to appease whatever it was his expression implied.  
  
Afterwards, Gladio clapped him on the back. "Be still, my heart," he said. "Somethin' tells me they won't be horsing around with that _equipment _anytime soon."  
  
"Wonderful that you're amused," Ignis said, letting his nerves settle. "I hate having to do that."  
  
"You're pretty popular with the younger crowd, Specialist Scientia."  
  
"Not popular enough to invite interest in my actual instruction," Ignis corrected him. "It seems I've been cursed by the Six, corralling rambunctious teenagers wherever I may be."  
  
"From where I'm standing, they seem more than interested in your _instruction _," Gladio insinuated. "You know what they say about military men and taking orders. Not that there's anything wrong with that."  
  
"No doubt a titillating adage," Ignis said, "But not terribly realistic."   
  
"Don't see the appeal?"  
  
"I'm afraid taking orders seems quite too mundane, once acquainted with the rank and file."  
  
"You've got it all turned around, Iggy," said Gladio. "I'm gonna guess those two weren't interested in bossing _you _around. Maybe they think you're better suited to the giving."_  
  
Much as in present circumstances. Gods. There was a faint yellow bruise beneath Prompto's eye where Ignis had struck him earlier that night. The sight of that mark left by his own hand thrilled the beast inside him as much as it anguished the man. If he gave the order, right now, Prompto would roll over and show his belly. He would bare his neck to Ignis's shoe before this man. But it would be a lie, born of Prompto's unending loyalty to Noctis and Lucis, to the mission. Not because of Ignis.   
  
He'd be fortunate if Prompto would even be willing to ride in the Regalia beside him when they finally put this misery behind them. He may never speak to Ignis again, as it stood. Ignis would understand; he could do nothing to prevent it.  
  
Prompto's leash lay in a scribbled circle upon the hall carpet. His hands pressed flat against the ground by his downturned head. Ignis watched as quaking fingers dug in to the soft material.  
  
What was wrong with him? 


	15. Chapter 15

Ignis found it increasingly difficult to focus on his mission while preoccupied by thoughts of Prompto's wellbeing. He made conversation without truly listening, and glanced occasionally back towards the end of the course as they went. Prompto hadn't appreciated his concern, but Ignis couldn't turn off the worry that buzzed in the back of his mind at all times. He was only able to recognize this and force himself back into character when one of the other guests commented on his expression, offering a bottle of spring water.   
  
The man then treated Ignis to an unsolicited anecdote about his run-ins with heatstroke and outdoor games, which served enough of a transition for Ignis to collect himself once more.  
  
By the time their party reached the end of the course, the afternoon sun had broken. In the golden haze of their return, Ignis paused at the sight of the empty lattice where Prompto had been secured just hours before.  
  
"Worry not," said the man who had offered Ignis his water. "As soon as it became obvious we'd run late again, I had them deliver everything back to our rooms."  
  
"I had been concerned about the time," Ignis lied, distantly, his mind racing. "Thank you. As always, you think one step ahead."  
  
The guest facetiously brushed off his praise. Ignis dried his palms against his pants. He'd promised not to allow anyone else to put their hands on Prompto. Such a simple, small thing, and even then he hadn't been able to keep his word.  
  
Try as they might, his companions failed to capture his focus, and Ignis dipped in and out of conversations and his worries in a dizzying back-and-forth.  
  
"They're waiting in your room," he heard the guest with the water explain to another confused patron.  
  
"Just us men at dinner, then," another joked. "An opportunity to toast before the night's events."  
  
At dinner, Ignis could hardly contain himself for the duration of the meal, mechanically placing food in his mouth and offering rote contribution to the chatter. He could see the skeptical glances the others directed around his remarks, losing his grasp on the careful mask he'd maintained for the past three days.  
  
When their dishes finally were collected, Ignis nearly leapt out of his seat. He was forced to remain when servers arrived to serve each guest coffee and sweets. Tucked into each serviette was a card from Chief Besithia apologizing for his absence this afternoon and promising them an excellent evening reunion.  
  
Ignis downed his cup as quickly as politeness would allow. He bid his goodbyes, heading in the direction of his room. The elevator's tone rang at his floor, and he lurched over the threshold in his haste, stumbling in the direction of their room.  
  
About a quarter of the way down the hall, his vision started to grow blurry.  
  
 _"Ignis!"  
  
He'd been dashed against a large boulder, air forced from his lungs by the impact as the Hundlegs that had tossed him rounded on the others. Prompto was at his side in a flash, hauling him up to break for cover while Gladio kept the thing busy.  
  
Ignis scrambled to get up, head pounding, heart racing irregularly. He could see a blue blur in the clearing that must have been Noct flitting about the monster's head like a persistent horsefly. His limbs felt as though they'd been dipped in a pan of thick syrup. There was something sticking out of his thigh.  
  
"Should've stayed further back," Prompto said into his arm. He caught a look at Ignis's confused expression, glanced down, and cursed. "Shit! Dude, you're poisoned!"  
  
While Prompto yanked out the pincer and fumbled for an antidote, Ignis mumbled into his grip. "I seem to have caught a bug," to which Prompto rolled his eyes and offered an affectionate shake.  
  
"If you're good enough to crack jokes, you can walk yourself back to camp," Prompto said. He eased Ignis onto his feet. "Oof, come on, up you go." Ignis righted himself, the heavy feeling dissipating from his head as he stood.  
  
"Thank you for the assist." He searched for what to say next. "Quite the sting operation."  
  
"Ok, buddy. Say cheese!" Ignis turned just in time to see the lens pointed at him. He pulled a face at the last second, casting his head to the side and pursing his lips in admonishment. Prompto lost it at that, and Ignis soon found himself laughing as well.   
  
As penance, Prompto joined him next for a joint photo, wrapping the arm with the camera around his friend's neck. Inwardly, his chest became full and warm. The weight of the other man pressed against him sent eager heat through Ignis's bloodstream.  
  
For this one Ignis kept his mouth pursed shut, offering a small smile to Prompto's big-mouthed grin._  
  
Ignis's vision swam. A sensation of vertigo struck him and he stumbled down the hall, one steadying hand against the wall.  
  
He stumbled again, and his glasses fell somewhere by his feet. Ignis raised his unoccupied hand to press against his forehead. His brain throbbed beneath his brow. The weight in his arms and legs now was like the status effect. But just like that time, he could see his friend.  
  
The blurred form of Prompto drew closer, walking steadily. In a moment of sorrow, Ignis wished he'd asked for the photographs – a memory of something that might have been, before all of this could come between them.  
  
As the face of the young man before him resolved itself into clarity, Ignis realized his mistake.  
  
His limp limbs disobeyed every attempt he made to right himself, to draw his weapon, anything. As his legs collapsed out from under him, he crumpled into the waiting arms of Verstael Besithia's personal slave. Ignis felt his tongue in his mouth, thick, unresponsive, as he attempted to speak, face squashed into the boy's upper arm. He struggled to push himself back upright with the boy's steady weight as leverage.   
  
Besithia's slave stood patiently in place, only bracing Ignis from falling to the floor. He offered neither assistance nor restriction as Ignis's own body betrayed him. Ignis panted openly, his mouth full of the scent of Besithia's oil.  
  
It didn't take long for the last of his consciousness to fail him. Ignis's unwilling eyes finally shut before the fuzzy patchwork of a QR code, his nose pressed into the boy's steady wrist.


	16. Chapter 16

Ignis woke, facedown, to a roar of applause.  
  
He opened his eyes and saw only darkness. His knees pressed into his chest. He tried to lift his hands, but they remained bound at his back. He tried to lift his head, and it rebounded face-first into hard ground. His arms tugged at his ankles, similarly bound. Fabric filled the spaces between his tongue and teeth. He heard a man's voice, far above his head.  
  
" _Turn it this way._ "  
  
The distorted sound of a voice over the telephone responded. The first repeated his order.  
  
Ignis pulled and pulled at his joined wrists. Through the cloth in his mouth, he growled. His right shoulder knocked into something narrow and hard. He closed his eyes and opened them again. The man said something else to his company. Darkness remained. He couldn't see. He couldn't _see_.   
  
His struggles grew more rapid. Unable to extricate either hand from its bondage, Ignis began to thrash in place.  
  
He toppled onto his side.  
  
The voice paused in its instructions. Ignis heard an amused snort. Scraping his temple against the ground in an attempt to remove the blindfold, he turned his face in the direction of the voice.   
  
Where was he? What had – oh.  
  
Ignis recalled the ringing in his ears as Prompto's absence had stretched on during the day. His relief at finding the other man safe and well. No, not Prompto. Besithia's slave.  
  
Astrals. _Prompto._ He hoped the other man had realized what must have happened when Ignis did not return. Contacted the others.   
  
What had given him away? He'd compromised everything.  
  
A sound; the man spitting, above Ignis. Moments later, it splashed against his upturned cheek.  
  
Next, the blindfold was removed. His tie had come untucked and fallen before him. Ignis found himself glaring up from his intolerable position. Unsurprised by the sight of Verstael Besithia's scowl, he tried to conjure his weapons. The attempt failed; his hands had been securely positioned.  
  
The sound of applause rose again, and Ignis's surroundings resolved themselves. A series of tall wooden posts - no - the legs of a barstool. A couch. The unmistakable logo of Arena Galviano winking from flat-screen television displays.   
  
The sidelong glance of Besithia's blue-eyed boy, seated on the floor, one arm and narrow leash curled about both knees.  
  
 _Besithia's box._ He'd been transported to the city while unconscious. A long drive from the resort, where unwitting Prompto waited in vain. His dear, honest friend, whose trust Ignis appeared to be destined to betray. Ignis made another attempt at summoning blade to fist.  
  
"You may as well give up," Besithia's voice said above him. Ignis offered him not even a glance, turning away from the man's feet.   
  
Until he punctuated his discouragement. "Have you forgotten? Your King is dead, Lucian. Your magic is useless here."  
  
Ignis realized how great his shock, that it must have shown on his face, because before he'd realized the words, he heard Besithia's laugh.  
  
"Are you surprised, _Amicus_? Or, should I say: Ignis Scientia?"   
  
He gasped around the gag at his own name. Besithia looked at his slave, and the boy reached out to remove it. Before Ignis could shout, the boy's hand clapped across his open mouth, muffling his outburst.  
  
"A friend of mine decided to pay us a visit. He claimed to have recognized that boy slave of yours at the party. Do you know what he said?"  
  
Ignis couldn't possibly form a guess. He jerked, trying to dislodge the boy. Ignis looked around for anything he could use, met only by furniture, floor, and carpet.  
  
"Imagine my surprise," Besithia continued, stepping around Ignis's still body on the floor, "when I discovered not one, but _two_ pieces of lost property had wandered into my event."  
  
Ignis tore his head from the boy's grip. "I am no man's property!"  
  
The man came to stand behind him, where Ignis could not watch. Besithia proceeded with his monologue as though Ignis had not spoken.  
  
"Interesting, for a favored pet to the heir of Lucis, how well he hid you from sight. All those years. The difficulty we faced in tracking down your image, even with the power of the Internet, was impressive. How, then, did I know who you were?"  
  
Besithia paused. Ignis realized what he must be looking at as the man recited.  
  


> **CROWNSGUARD OPENS GATES TO LIBERTI RECRUIT**  
>  _SEPTEMBER 10, 749. INSOMNIA._ IGNIS SCIENTIA ( _left_ ), 15, ACCOMPANIED BY KINGSGLAIVE NYX ULRIC ( _right_ ), 25, BECOMES FIRST LIBERTUS TRAINEE ACCEPTED TO EARLY TRAINING PROGRAM. SCIENTIA'S OATH PLACES HIM IN THE PUBLIC EYE FOR THE SECOND TIME THIS YEAR, HOT ON THE HEELS OF HIS EMANCIPATION UNDER THE JUVENILE CUSTODIAL RESTITUTION INITIATIVE. SOURCES CLOSE TO THE CROWN ALLEGE ULRIC TO BE SCIENTIA'S PRIMARY SPONSOR. WHILE GLAIVE-GUARD FRATERNITY REMAINS RARE, ULRIC HIMSELF...

  
  
"...and so on. You must know the rest. Imagine the odds of us meeting here."   
  
Ignis owned a copy of the article at home, buried somewhere in a filing drawer. Noctis and Gladio had cut it out for him and written _Congrats Specs!_ , _welcome to the big leagues_ , just below the headline. Was _that_ really the only picture of him on the web? The photo, as he recalled, was terrible. It featured bony, bug-eyed him standing next to one of the most handsome and popular Glaives in the city. The photographer had caught them unaware, and Ignis's eyes and mouth were half-open.   
  
Despite his present dilemma, Ignis found himself offended that Besithia had recognized him from it at all.  
  
Something prodded against his lower back, and he clenched his fingers uselessly as Besithia continued. "I did wonder why a Lucian slave would see fit to come sniffing around my affairs. Revenge for your youth? Your master? Or, perhaps, a longing for the good old days? There can be no Citadel whore without a Citadel, after all."  
  
He could hear Besithia's footsteps but still Ignis could not move enough to catch sight of the man.  
  
"What is your aim?" he demanded. A foot landed on the back of his head.  
  
Ignis grunted as Besithia stepped forward to drive his face against the floor.   
  
"Enough of that," the man said. "You've forgotten your place."  
  
"I'm afraid you're mistaken," Ignis began, and the man's weight receded. He received a kick to the jaw for his trouble, cutting off his speech.  
  
"I have no patience for those who put on airs. I'm going to embarass you the way you've embarassed me, _boy_ ," said Besithia, a flash of teeth under his upper lip. "You'll _beg_ for the collar. And when that's done, you'll be reminded what beasts like you were made for."  
  
The man replaced his foot against Ignis's jaw. Ignis grimaced, straining still to turn himself, to lift his head, writhing against Besithia's sole as the man leaned ever more of his weight upon it.  
  
"Beg," Besithia said.  
  
"Never," Ignis hissed through his teeth. The pressure increased. He cried out. Besithia pushed, harder, and elicited another cry before stepping off once more.  
  
"We'll see about that," he said, then directed some gesture to his slave that Ignis could not make out.  
  
The boy crossed the room and grasped Ignis's torso with some effort, dragging him forward. Ignis lurched as far as his bonds would allow, but could gain no traction in such a position. He was heaved in short lengths across the floor, knees dragging across carpet and beyond, until they reached the glass window that served as one of the private box's walls. Ignis found himself pressed up against the glass, looking down upon a Totomostro ring.  
  
He'd been mistaken again. This could not have been the same room they attended in the other day. The arena below was much smaller, and the view much closer, than the main stage. No spectator seats ringed the arena, just a two-story ring of one-way glass windows that formed a sheer wall. In the center of the ring, small enough for matches between individual monsters, Besithia's stage had been erected. Bound to a bench was a collared boy, receiving blows from a strap across his tossing shoulders.  
  
"Enjoying the view, beast?" Besithia said.  
  
He gestured with a small remote in front of Ignis's eyes, soon withdrawing it from sight. He heard the click of the television turning on. The sound of pained gasps struck his ears with every lash to the slave below them.  
  
"I believe in ending on a high note," Ignis heard Besithia say while he scanned the reflection of the room in search of an escape.  
  
One blow landed more heavily than the others across the boy's lower back.   
  
The victim let out a shout of pain. A too-familiar voice.  
  
 _Two pieces of lost property._ The man's earlier words dawned on Ignis with terrifying totality. When Besithia's slave pulled him away from the mirror to face all three screens set into the wall, Ignis felt the name catch in his throat.  
  
 _Prompto._


	17. Chapter 17

Ignis glared at the cold gaze of the Research Chief from where he knelt at the man's feet, released from his bonds but once again gagged. This time, as Besithia's slave pushed it into the corners of his stuffed mouth with steady fingertips, he recognized the cloth as his own handkerchief.  
  
Over the speakers, Prompto yelped, and Ignis glared at Besithia's knees instead.  
  
Without looking, Ignis saw his friend in his mind's eye: Prompto in the arena, collared, bound and gagged. Attended by another of Besithia's personal slaves. Others lined up for their turn.  
  
This was only the warm-up, after all.  
  
"I always hold the final event here," Besithia had said as his slave released Ignis's hands. "and what a show it will be this evening. If only your ruse had gone uncovered, you might have been able to enjoy it."  
  
The arena had been prepared with all manner of equipment for the night's entertainment. The attendees could bid for the satisfaction of prolonging a torment, or suggesting an implement. Some paid to participate firsthand. Others bet on the outcome of events, where applicable. _They are here to see blood,_ Besithia had whispered into his ear as he stared, wide-eyed, at the scene, his breath on the glass obscuring Prompto.  
  
"Once again, your _family breed_ is our warm-up entertainment," Besithia said while directing Ignis to remove his shirt with an imperious tip of the nose.  
  
Ignis's fingers fumbled at the buttons down his front.  
  
Prompto jerked in his shackles onscreen. He'd been moved to a raised platform, his hands secured above his head and ankles spread at the base. The ridged teeth of a shiny clamp dug into one pink nipple, its chain and partner sliding across Prompto's stomach as he strained and shifted. His red cock stood erect against his stomach, a black rubber ring cruelly pinched around its base, drawing his flushed scrotum away from his body.  
  
Whenever Ignis hesitated, Prompto suffered. Besithia watched him undress himself with a growing smile of delight. The man had not yet laid a hand on Ignis himself.  
  
Ignis did his best not to hesitate, each transmission of Prompto's wretched voice a blow in and of itself. He observed as much of the room as possible, gauged the distance to the door and Besithia's physical fitness.  
  
"How well you've been domesticated," Besithia said as he removed his pants and socks and abandoned them in a mound around his bare feet. "So loyal, so beautiful. And to such a dirty creature. That will change, at least."  
  
Occasionally Besithia demanded his verbal agreement. Each time Ignis spoke, the words muffled by the gag in his mouth. Prompto received a shock, and Ignis was forced to repeat himself, trembling at the command to speak clearly.   
  
Besithia tired of this game after a few rounds and removed the gag once more, but Ignis knew better than to speak. He sat in just his briefs, brimming with fury, and waited for Besithia's guard to drop.  
  
"How can I remain angry at the theft of my MT? The boy has been returned, obedient. Unlike," he said, calmly, watching Ignis's lips press into the toe of his shoe, "others, who have gotten dangerous ideas out in the wild. You need a firm, intelligent hand to set things straight."  
  
Ignis paused at his next command, revulsion painting itself clearly across his face.  
  
The sound of applause broke from the television speakers as Prompto's back arched with the introduction of a thick steel plug to the boy's wet, red asshole. On another screen, Prompto panted around the open gag in his mouth. Broadcast from the third screen, a close-up of his cock twitched and jumped, pool of clear discharge drooling onto his chest.  
  
Swallowing, Ignis pressed his mouth to Besithia's foot again. He began to lave his tongue over the top of the man's shoe, his face burning.  
  
When the man tipped his foot back and Ignis gagged at the taste and texture of the dirt on his sole, recoiling instinctively, Prompto receieved a vicious blow to the face from one of the men attending to his mistreatment and went still. The one working his ass open continued to fuck Prompto on the plug, the young man's head flopping against his shoulder.  
  
Ignis removed his mouth from its place, retching, and felt a gentle pressure against the top of his head. Besithia pet his hair in time to his short, hard breaths.  
  
"Your Prince trained you well," the man said. "Unfortunate that he had to go and get himself killed. Were you this good for him? Better? Or maybe," and Ignis was shaking under his hand, now, fingernails scoring his own clenched fists, "you tricked your way into a free man's world because _he_ behaved so well for _you_ , as you've done wi–"  
  
Ignis roared, leapt at the man, tasted blood before he registered what his body was doing. He found Besithia's hand wrenched from his teeth, the man recoiling into his couch in shock, eyes wide open.   
  
Prompto's lifeless form continued to fill the walls of the room as Ignis reached both hands out to wrap around the wooden leg of the barstool and rounded on the man, bearing the full weight of it down upon him. Ignis used his makeshift bludgeon to push the man's slave out of his way and fumble for the door latch.   
  
As he stumbled out, he cast a glance back at his clothing on the floor, then at the stool still in his grasp. Besithia's slave was already attempting to rouse the man where he'd fallen.   
  
Ignis ran.


	18. Chapter 18

Ignis sped down the hallway, the smack of his bare feet echoing against the curved corridor. His daggers were back in his hand, the stool abandoned. Their familiar heft offered a support.   
  
Around him, applause echoed endlessly in the confined, spinning hallways, intersecting over and over in a web that encased his ears. Ignis had the presence of mind to realize, hearing the sound on endless repeat, that the crowd had been canned air.  
  
Not far now; he'd been able to estimate the distance and rough location of the arena door from Besithia's window. With his weapons at the ready, he incapacitated the bodyguards stationed outside and stalked through the doors.  
  
Besithia may not have pursued him in time, but Ignis could see that word of his approach must have reached the miniature arena floor. The slaves and slave-owners ringing the sides had vanished from view. There'd be more security forces on the way any moment.  
  
Prompto lay in the same position Ignis had last seen him; his eyes shut, mouth stretched open by the gag, arms above his head. Bruising blossomed purple around his collar. Ignis raced to him, putting his dagger aside to unbuckle each of the wide cuffs around Prompto's hands and feet.   
  
He pulled the plug from Prompto's ass, made ill by the noise his hole made at its absence. Prompto's cock twitched in its ring, and Ignis forced himself to look anywhere but at it. Ignis, even in his fear, couldn't help his body's reaction to the sight of Prompto like this. His friend deserved at least the dignity of removing the thing himself when he woke. Too many others had touched him without his consent, and Ignis was to blame for it all.  
  
Prompto came to while Ignis struggled to shift him upright to get at the gag, blinking and groaning. He reached for Ignis, palm coming to rest against his left pectoral.  
  
"Ymmfmme," he said. Ignis hushed him.  
  
The arena door rumbled open behind them.  
  
"Specs? _Prompto?_ "  
  
Ignis turned on the spot. He placed his own body between his friend and the door, keeping a grip around Prompto's shoulders. He almost dropped him; Prompto made a noise in surprise.  
  
Noctis walked cautiously through the open doorway, sword in hand. He was very obviously trying not to stare at their respective states.  
  
Prompto said something through the gag. Suddenly energetic, he pushed against Ignis's hold, and Ignis tightened his grip so as not to drop the other man.  
  
"Guys?" Noct said, glancing between them, disgust poorly disguised on his face. "What the hell is going on here?"  
  
"Noct." Ignis's entire body loosened in relief. If Noct was here, Gladio couldn't be far behind. No doubt contending with Besithia's forces. Prompto must have become suspicious of his disappearance and gotten word out just in time.  
  
They were going to be alright.  
  
His daggers dissipated in a shimmer of crystalline light, and Ignis adjusted Prompto. The young man was still trying to catch Noct's attention, movement growing more agitated as their friend crossed the arena floor. Ignis reached behind Prompto's head to fumble with the gag.  
  
The next second, everything fell apart.   
  
Prompto pushed him away suddenly with a full-body impact. Ignis's back bumped against the platform and he dropped back onto his elbows in surprise, gaping, as Prompto's body bent over his. Ignis saw a cringe of agony twist his friend's face. He looked up.  
  
Behind Prompto, Noctis stood over them both. A black riding crop, clutched tight in his hand, lifted for a second hit.   
  
Ignis responded automatically, raising an arm to shove Prompto out of the way. He caught the second strike against his shoulder. The third smacked into the side of his head, sending sparks through his vision.  
  
"What are you _doing_?" He stretched his hands out, but the daggers didn't return, and Ignis lost his balance when Noctis struck once more, laying him flat on his back. The painted ceiling of the arena spun. On the ground beside him, Prompto wheezed wet around the gag in his mouth, the chevron of red welts across his chest expanding and contracting.  
  
Ignis saw Noct advancing on them again. He reached for Prompto, who was shaking his head back and forth. His friend's face vibrated in and out of focus.  
  
Ears ringing, Ignis turned just in time to see the Chancellor of Niflheim readying another blow.

Anticipating the strike, Ignis drew his hands up to cover his face.   
  
When he lowered them, Ardyn held an unsteady Prompto against the larger man with an arm wrapped to his chest. Prompto's own handgun pressed against the young man's throat.  
  
" _Ardyn_ ," Ignis said, low.  
  
"How _long_ it has been," the man said.  
  
"Not long at all," he snapped, without thinking.   
  
Ardyn only clicked his tongue teasingly in response. The steel in his hand glinted against the overhead lights of the arena.  
  
"What do you want," Ignis said. His head hurt. His knees ached. His body stung in the places Ardyn had struck him. The weariness of clinging to his beleaguered pride dragged at every thought. Let the man take what he would. The Chancellor held Prompto's life in his hands, to what end Ignis had no need to understand, as the threat itself had already decided Ignis's course of action.  
  
"How cold," Ardyn chided. "I come to all this trouble to visit, and not even a _hello_ in return. I thought we had something special, _Ignis_."  
  
Prompto, pressed up to the man's chest, was shaking his head _no_ in Ignis's direction.  
  
"I have only come to collect what is owed." Ardyn's cursed smile seemed to bisect the whole of his face. The gun dug into Prompto's skin above the collar, then his jaw, as the man dragged it up against his captive's face. Ardyn tapped the barrel against Prompto's gag. He waved in the direction of one of the arena cameras. "Verstael's crowd is bound to bask in the excitement."  
  
"Why are you _here_?" Ignis said hoarsely.   
  
Ardyn, beginning to fiddle with the strap around Prompto's head using his other hand, glanced back up. His fingers crooked into the side of Prompto's mouth, and he drew the wire object out carelessly, trailing spiderwebs of spittle. Prompto spit and coughed in his grasp.  
  
"As luck should have it, I happened to be visiting a good friend on _business_ ," Ardyn said. "Imagine the joy it brought forth when I spotted two others. I do have such a soft spot for you boys."  
  
" _Why?_ "  
  
"Nothing turns my stomach so much as the sight of a loyal servant," Ardyn said simply. "I thought it best to amputate that futile naïvete you hold so dear. I am, after all, committed to our dear Noct – and the quest for which he's conscripted you all."  
  
"You have no right," Ignis began, and shut his mouth when Ardyn stood, Prompto pinned to his broad chest.  
  
Ignis could not find the strength to gather himself or to cast about for another solution. He watched in battered silence.  
  
Their foe marched the young man back to the platform and, handgun resting against his bare chest, proceeded to reattach the wrist cuffs.  
  
Ardyn gave Prompto's arm an experimental tug, and nodded to himself in satisfaction. He waved Ignis over. Ignis remained where he was.  
  
The man tapped Prompto's weapon against his knee. "Come, come, now, I won't bite," Ardyn said.  
  
Ignis reluctantly dragged his aching body upright and walked to the structure. Ardyn rearranged himself so that he stood crouched to the side of the platform head, cradling Prompto's skull from behind.  
  
"It's simple, really," Ardyn said. "Verstael has graciously donated the use of his stage until the time of the next event. So long as you bring our little soldier to completion before that comes to pass, my finger remains in its place."  
  
"You _demented_ – " Ignis swallowed his outburst at Ardyn's warning _tut tut_ , watching the steel of the gun barrel.  
  
"You seem new at this, and I'm suddenly feeling quite generous," Ardyn said then. "Why not take your place at his feet, and allow me to guide you from there."  
  
When Ignis paused, Prompto stretched out and straining before him, Ardyn brandished the gun in his direction. "We'll start by removing those. With haste, now, you don't have much time."  
  
Ignis stepped gingerly out of his underpants. He straightened, fully nude, and faced down Ardyn with the cruelest words he knew filling up the interior of his tightly-shut mouth.   
  
Ardyn looked him over with an approving nod, staring openly at the half-formed erection Ignis now sported against his better efforts. His self-control faltered in the face of Prompto stretched out, squirming and groaning, cock painfully hard up against his belly. Ignis flushed.  
  
As he watched, Ardyn reached down Prompto's front to grip his base, carefully extricating the young man's dick and balls from their constricting prison. Prompto keened into the touch, bucking his hips. The larger man let go, and Prompto actually opened his mouth in an unbidden moan at the loss.  
  
"Come, boy," Ardyn said, snapping his fingers. "Time's a wasting."  
  
Ignis knew this already. The situation left him no choice whatsoever. He'd see it through for exactly as long as it took to remove Prompto from danger, and if he could never forgive himself, so be it.  
  
The man had been sincere about taking charge. He first instructed Ignis to put his fingers inside Prompto.  
  
His friend's sore entrance, already stretched and sticky with Besithia's lubricant, twitched at his first finger's touch in tiny, pulsing contractions. Ignis rubbed at the rim before pushing in, to little resistance.   
  
Prompto's erection rocked at the stimulation, but when Ignis reached out to grasp it, Ardyn waved his hand away. "Cheater," the man said, in a sing-song voice. "Now, tell him what comes next."  
  
Ignis watched Prompto's hole clench around his fingers, and drew them back out. "I - " he swallowed. "I am about to insert another of my fingers." Prompto groaned in the back of his throat. When Ignis pushed back in, three fingers this time, Prompto's lower body jerked against him. He began to draw them in and out.  
  
"And what of you?" Ardyn asked Prompto, who had his bottom lip between his teeth.  
  
"Th - thank you?" Prompto said, a dazed look on his bright red face.  
  
"Hmm," Ardyn pretended, tapping his fingers against Prompto's arm even as the steel of his gun pressed against the man's jaw. "What do you think, Ignis? You would know: Is that any way to address one's master?"  
  
Ignis stilled the movement of his hand. Beneath him, Prompto whimpered. He pressed in again.  
  
"Thank you, _sir_ ," Prompto said. Ignis's cock stiffened.  
  
"Warmer," Ardyn commented. "But I have faith. You can do better than this, Prompto. And you," he said to Ignis. "Stop your stalling. Tell him what comes next."  
  
Ignis's heartbeat scattered through his chest. He pulled his fingers back from Prompto's loosened hole and wrapped them around his own cock, stroking it briskly to stiffness.  
  
"I'm going to –" he began. He couldn't get the words out.  
  
Ardyn gave out a theatrical sigh. "Very well," he said, jostling Prompto in his grip. "You'll have to ask him for it."  
  
Prompto yanked at his bound hands uselessly, rutting against the air. "Please, put it in me," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper.  
  
Ardyn raised a hand to his ear. "What was that?"  
  
"Put it in me, sir," Prompto tried.  
  
"Tell him what to say," Ardyn said to Ignis. "Tell him to ask for your big, thick cock in his filthy hole."  
  
Ignis repeated the words numbly, trapped between despair and arousal. He gripped at Prompto's thigh as though pinching it would wake them both.  
  
"Please," Prompto begged, bumping against Ignis as he drew his legs up. "Please, sir, put your cock in my ass, I need it," he said, tears in the corners of his eyes.  
  
Ignis found himself pressing in slowly, holding Prompto down as his friend desperately bucked in his touch, erection throbbing between them, trying to fuck himself on Ignis's hard length.  
  
Ardyn rubbed Prompto's chest. "Are you going to tell him to thank you?"  
  
"Are you going to thank me?" Ignis said.  
  
"Thank you, sir," Prompto moaned.  
  
"What did we say about trying your best?" Ardyn said. "Show your master your gratitude. Tell him how it feels."  
  
"Thank you, sir," Prompto said. "It feels so good, sir. I want it now. In me. Please, sir."  
  
Easing in inch by inch, Ignis watched the ripple of marks on Prompto's bare front, the way his eyes rolled upward just slightly as Ignis settled fully inside of him, sweat sluicing off of his chest and collared throat.  
  
Prompto rocked into him, mouth twitching ajar, and Ignis stifled the groan that rose in his own throat. Ignis began to slide in and out of him in long, careful strokes. Prompto's back arched with the torturous sensation, cock leaking again and still untouched.  
  
"I love it, sir," Prompto mumbled over the vulgar noises of their bodies, staring down between them where Ignis disappeared inside him. "I need it. I can feel you in me, filling me up, it's so good, Ignis, fuck, I mean, sir," he said, fingers twisting above his head.  
  
" _Prompto_ ," Ignis said through clenched teeth, increasing his pace.  
  
"Good boy," Ardyn said. "Bite him," he ordered Ignis.  
  
Prompto immediately shouted and recoiled, drawing a gasp from Ignis as the other tightened around his cock, but Ardyn silenced him with a single broad hand rubbing against the collar.  
  
Ignis moved forward over Prompto, shifting in search of a comfortable angle. His body loomed above the younger man's. Ignis leaned into Prompto's front, inhaling deeply.  
  
"I'm sorry," he murmured, under his breath. "I'm sorry, gods, Prompto," and his friend sobbed.  
  
He lingered with his nose pressed to Prompto's chest for just a moment before drawing back, and biting down against the other's shoulder.  
  
Prompto screamed, though Ignis had been careful not to break the skin, and tightened around Ignis with such force that he saw stars.   
  
Ignis drew back and redoubled his thrusts, hoping against hope that their time wasn't running out. Prompto shook against him. His balls smacked into the other man's ass in a sloppy, deafening rhythm that consumed Ignis's senses.  
  
"Thank you sir, it's so hot, it's stretching me out. I need your cock, Ignis, sir, I need you, sir," Prompto babbled as his cock began to leak cum, jerking above his hips in small spurts when Ignis rocked deep inside of him.   
  
Ardyn sat back on his heels to watch hungrily at the place where Ignis disappeared into Prompto's ass, a self-satisfied smirk on his face.   
  
Ignis pulled out, still hard and gasping against Prompto, who pressed up against him with as much of his body as he could.  
  
"Good boy," Ardyn said.

"There we go. Not so bad, now, was it?"  
  
His vision returned in spots. Ignis removed his own hand from his cock, gritting his teeth as he panted, staring at the streak of whitish fluid fallen across Prompto's chest.  
  
Ardyn daubed at it with two fingers, smearing Ignis's come into the boy's trembling skin. He lifted his hand to taste it.  
  
Revolted by his body's renewed interest at the sight, Ignis slowly, shakily unclenched his fists. He did so while observing the Chancellor as the man dug one hand around in a chest at the foot of the platform which still held Prompto bound. Ardyn exclaimed as he uncovered the object of his search, and tossed something at him across Prompto's limp body.  
  
Ignis caught it automatically, fingers wrapping around the supple material. A leash. Leather. Identical to the second in Ardyn's hand, which the man now fastened to Prompto's throat.  
  
Ardyn threw something else to him, which Ignis only just managed to arrest when bounced off against his chest. A pair of padded handcuffs.  
  
"Put that on," the man ordered him.  
  
His grip twitched. Laboriously, with the lethargy of a man walking forward underwater, Ignis raised the lead to his own bare neck. He clipped the one end around its own length. At a gesture from their captor, Ignis pulled the loop tight.  
  
As with the ties, the collar, he found it difficult to think of anything else. It pinched into his windpipe. Ignis wheezed in shallow, hazy draws of breath.   
  
The cuffs were easier to manage. Ignis snapped them into place, his right wrist and then the left.  
  
He quite nearly missed Ardyn once more releasing Prompto from the bed, similarly shackled, urging the unsteady man to his feet with a pococurante wave of the handgun.  
  
Ardyn gathered their leads in one hand, gesturing for a stumbling Prompto to lead the way.  
  
Ignis felt the pull of his syrupy thighs and tackle rubbing against one another as he walked, skin on skin. They both were coated in sweat and slick at the groin; the smear of semen across Prompto's front had started to flake at the edges.  
  
They passed two guests and several waiting slaves on the way out the door, who hardly spared them a second glance. One was the man who had offered him a bottle of water. The other had been among those who volunteered to strike Prompto, that second night. Had it really happened just yesterday?   
  
In front of him, the bruises against Prompto's bare back and rear provided stark evidence of the fact. Ignis cast his gaze down towards Prompto's feet. Another guest passed by them on the way to the arena.  
  
Ardyn passed their leashes to a waiting bodyguard and tipped his hat. "There you go, now," he said to their pale, downturned faces. "I'll be up in _just_ a moment."  
  
As they approached the door of Besithia's box once more, the noise of the arena's recorded ovation blared from the hallway speakers once again. Ignis tried to gather his thoughts, to formulate a strategy, over the back-and-forth racing of his own frantic heartbeat.  
  
The guard strode ahead into the room, dragging them after without so much as a word. Ignis choked against the tightening of the lead, following with haste.  
  
Besithia stood at the window, watching two guests taking turns at either end of a third, smaller figure. The barstool Ignis displaced in his escape had been righted in his absence. The graphic image played on his muted television screens.   
  
His slave knelt against the grille set into the far wall, untethered. The guard made short work of tying both Ignis and Prompto off, and exited with a bow. Besithia still did not move.  
  
Ignis waited, refusing to kneel. He tested the cuffs experimentally. Their short chain clicked together, and he winced. Prompto panted against the metal lattice where he leant.  
  
At the sound, Besithia finally turned. He walked across the room to stand before them, and reached out to seize Prompto by the chin with forefinger and thumb. Prompto, eyes lidded and unfocused, only let out a small, uncomfortable sound. Ignis's stomach clenched.  
  
"Lovely," the wicked man breathed against Prompto's unresponsive expression. "You've taken so naturally to pain and pleasure both, my son."  
  
Ignis, disgust seizing him entirely, moved at once without thinking to place himself between Besithia and his friend.   
  
Besithia backhanded him, and Ignis fell back against the wall. He continued to address Prompto, who tried weakly to pull his face from the other man's grip.  
  
"You, I shall keep," the Research Chief said. "For sentimentality's sake. Maybe my researchers will be able to divulge the secret of your scourgeless survival."  
  
Each word echoed against Ignis's cranium, but he found it impossible to follow the underlying thought. His breath caught as Besithia released Prompto to grab for Ignis's leash, kicking his feet out from under him.  
  
The material went taut against his skin, pulled up at a point just by his ear. He let out an aborted croak. Ignis jerked like a puppet on the end of its string, trying to gather his legs to support him, shackles clattering, the cold metal of the grille digging against his writhing back.  
  
He reached for his own throat with both bound hands, clutching at the thing.   
  
"On the other hand, I have no use for damaged goods," the man said. " _You_ will have another turn onstage before the night is through. Hopefully, your last, for daring to deceive me."  
  
Ignis gasped, the rattling, sucking sound of his breath stark against the silence of the room. Besithia only laughed at his struggles, pulling the thing tighter. Ignis's vision began to darken at the edges, the lights of the room and Prompto's flushed body beside him swimming.  
  
He could take in no more air. The strength drained from his body, fingers falling from his throat to dangle uselessly at his sides.  
  
Just as his eyes began to shut, Ignis felt the pressure around his throat release.  
  
His shoulder jolted with an impact that traveled through his own body. He drew in air frantically through his crushed windpipe. Ignis blinked back tears to the sight of a pair of bare feet scrabbling for purchase. He looked up.  
  
Prompto had his leash wrapped around Besithia's throat, chained hands shaking with the force of his grip. Ignis had fallen at their feet.  
  
The man thrashed, cursing and attempting to dislodge Prompto's smaller frame. Despite his weakened stage, Prompto used the leverage from where the tether had been tied against the wall to aid him.  
  
Ignis tried to gather himself, to stand, but found he could not move a muscle. He watched helplessly as his friend jerked at the leash, driving his elbow into Besithia's throat. The research chief's gargling coughs filled the box.  
  
His relief proved short-lived when finally, Besithia managed to lunge forward, dashing the smaller man against the wall. Prompto's limited strength gave out and his head slammed into the unyielding surface with a vicious crack.   
  
The young man's grip loosened around the leash, and Besithia wrenched himself free, only to swing at Prompto with his fist. There was a red line across the man's throat.  
  
Chapped knuckles connected with the side of Prompto's face. The man struck him again and again, Prompto sliding against the wall, shoulders shaking.   
  
He tried to raise his hands to protect himself, and Besithia slapped them away, choking him against the wall with a steel grip. Ignis willed his limbs to respond.  
  
As Ignis shifted, drawing himself up, the other man took notice. Besithia let go of a convulsing Prompto, rounding on Ignis in his fury. He still could not seem to command his body.   
  
His arms and legs disobeyed his every instinct. The room swam in his vision. As Besithia's fist drew back once again, Ignis cringed against the floor.  
  
" _No!_ "  
  
 _BANG!_  
  
The deafening crack of a gunshot shook the room.   
  
Besithia fell backwards against the couch, clutching at his eye.  
  
Ignis lifted his head to see Prompto, gun clattering in his grip.   
  
The shocked expression on his friend's face faded as oblivion finally claimed him.


	19. Chapter 19

Ignis groaned, his eyelids painted with lead. He fought to open them. Something cold pressed against his face. Something warm against his arm, jostling it.  
  
"Do I have a story for _you_ , old friend!"  
  
Wakefulness snapped to him, and Ignis opened his eyes to the sound of the door opening.  
  
Prompto knelt beside him. As the warm weight on his arm withdrew, Ignis dimly registered that his friend had been attempting to shake him awake. He inched himself upright, looking to the open door.  
  
Ardyn Izunia strode into the room with a grin of pure mirth. He paused, sparing a glance for the fallen research chief.  
  
Prompto shouted, grabbing for his weapon again, but Ardyn was on him in an instant, slamming the boy back against the wall. Prompto dropped his gun. Ignis stared at it.  
  
The sound of his friend's aborted yelp of pain shocked him from his stupor. Ignis tore at the leash around his neck with his hands, scrabbling to get the thing undone. Just as he began to raise it over his head, Ardyn released Prompto from his grip and turned to Ignis.   
  
He boxed Ignis in against the wall. An inoffensive, outdoorsy scent lingered on his clothes, something sweeter underneath. As Ardyn leaned in, the man's massive frame engulfing Ignis's bare, beaten body, Ignis retched as the stench of decay revealed itself. His forehead pressed against the man's front.  
  
Chastising, Ardyn ran a hand down Ignis's front, pausing to thumb the join where hip met thigh. He put his other arm around Ignis's back, drawing him closer. Ignis's skin crawled as Ardyn continued his exploration. Rough fingers teased between his legs.  
  
Once again, Ignis's faculties failed him.  
  
"Stop!"  
  
Ardyn drew back just barely.  
  
"Why on Eos would I do that?" he said to Prompto.  
  
"Not Ignis," Prompto said. "Please. I've been good."  
  
"Ah, I see. _This_ is your idea of good behavior." Ardyn gestured to Besithia's prone form draped across the couch. Ignis realized suddenly that Prompto may have slain the man.  
  
This wasn't right. It had been his responsibility to protect his friend, not the other way around. Hadn't it?  
  
"I'll do whatever you want," Prompto said. "With you. With him. Just promise me you'll let him go."  
  
"Prompto, no," Ignis said. Ardyn placed a finger against his lips. He drew it away when Ignis tried to bite, then plunged it into his mouth.  
  
"If that's the case," Ardyn said, " _dearest_ Prompto, you may show us how much you mean it."  
  
He pressed two fingers against Ignis's tongue, driving his jaw open. Ignis struggled to close his jaw, but Ardyn's inhuman strength endured. He choked on the flavor of rotten flesh.  
  
Prompto hesitated, but began to move toward them. Ardyn shook his head.  
  
"On your knees," he said, eyes alight with mirth.  
  
Prompto crawled forward gingerly, with a pained expression as his tortured body moved. The collar stood out against his neck. When he reached them, Ardyn gestured for the young man to sit up.  
  
"Ask nicely," he said. Ignis choked around the digits gagging him.  
  
"Please," Prompto said, looking nauseous.  
  
"Yes?" Ardyn said. "What would you like?"  
  
"Don't hurt him," Prompto said, immediately. Ardyn tightened his hold on Ignis.  
  
"None of that, now. What is it you _really_ want?" the man said.  
  
"I want you to let him go," Prompto replied, confusion written across his flushed, pale face. Ignis could see tear tracks beside his reddened eyes.  
  
Ardyn tapped his chin, a pantomime of considerate thought. "Is that all?"  
  
" _Yes_ ," Prompto said. Ignis's throat ached.  
  
The hand in his mouth moved to his throat, caressing the skin where the leash had left dark bruising scores.  
  
"I'm not sure I believe you," Ardyn said.  
  
"Please," he said again. "I want - I want you to fuck me. I want him to fuck me?"   
  
"Is that a question?"  
  
Prompto blanched. "I don't know what you want. Just tell me what you want me to do. I'll do it."  
  
"This is about what _you_ want," Ardyn said, splaying his hand across Ignis's throat. Ignis tested the cuffs around his wrists again. "I'm asking after your original purpose. How did the two of you come to this place?"  
  
"No," Ignis said again. "Prompto, don't do this."  
  
Ardyn's fingers wrapped around his neck. Ignis gasped for air.  
  
"W-we were here on a mission," Prompto said quickly, casting the cat from the bag with his words. "It wasn't - we were supposed to be undercover," he said.  
  
"Don't - tell him - anything," Ignis wheezed. He flexed his hands. Ardyn choked him harder.  
  
"The drive!" Prompto said frantically, lifting his chained hands, palms out. "The old guy's backup files – we were supposed to steal them, I promise," he said, tension in every exposed muscle and joint, "We were here to take it, I swear, that's all! We didn't even _succeed_." His voice broke sharp on the last word.  
  
Nodding thoughtfully, Ardyn loosened his grip.   
  
In that moment, Ignis thrust into him with the wall for leverage and drove his fists into the man's chest. Clasped between them was the dagger he had summoned while Prompto commanded Ardyn's attentions.  
  
Ignis shoved forward, impaling him further. The man looked down at the blade sticking out of his heart.   
  
Mouth frozen in an "o" of shocked delight, he toppled away from Ignis.


	20. Chapter 20

Ignis scrambled to pull the leash over his head at last, before hastening to Prompto's side. The other man had frozen in place when Ardyn fell, but soon followed Ignis's example, fumbling to unbuckle the collar at his throat at last. It fell. Ignis cast a look between their still-bound hands.  
  
"We gotta get out of here," Prompto said. Ignis watched him helplessly. The leash rested on his palms.   
  
Prompto made for Ignis's discarded jacket on the floor, rummaging through the pockets. "Aha!" he said as his hands emerged with the cell phone Ignis had received for their mission. Then he paused.  
  
"D'you wanna come with us?" he said, and Ignis realized Besithia's slave still knelt at the end of the couch, staring into space, palms on the tops of his knees. The boy had borne silent witness to the entire spectacle.  
  
The boy gave no indication that he'd heard, but Prompto got gingerly to his feet, stepping over Ardyn's outstretched arm. He made a face at the sight, but put one foot flat against the man's torso, tugging Ignis's weapon free with both hands. He wiped it off on Ardyn's breast. Ignis stared down toward the body at his feet.  
  
"Hold still," Prompto said as he approached the boy, brandishing the weapon. No doubt terrified, the boy still betrayed no outward emotion. Ignis barely spotted the clench of slender fingers against a bare thigh as Prompto slid the blade carefully between collar and throat.  
  
The collar fell to the boy's side. Prompto tugged him to his feet, and offered him a pat on the back. "C'mon," he said.  
  
Ignis just stared. How would they possibly escape as they were now, let alone with an additional party in tow? Hadn't this boy been complicit in their abuse? Was Prompto _mad_?  
  
His friend had caught his look. "I know, but we _can't_ just leave him here," Prompto said. His expression brokered no argument. "You saw what they're like. No one deserves that."  
  
You _saw_. As though they'd been mere observers.  
  
Swallowing, Ignis reluctantly nodded his agreement. He pulled the telephone from Prompto's outstretched hand. Before he could dial, the body of the man before him moved, startling the device from Ignis's hands. It landed against the pile of leash on the floor.  
  
Ignis found himself on his back before he had time to register the sight of an upright Ardyn throwing him to the ground. He tried to lift himself again, on shaking arms, but Ardyn rested a foot on his chest, pinning him in place.   
  
Spitting with fury, Prompto lunged forward with Ignis's dagger, but Ardyn sidestepped his approach without allowing Ignis the opportunity to stand. He grabbed Prompto's wrist. The dagger fell.  
  
"You _are_ on your best behavior today," Ardyn growled wickedly. Ignis clutched at his leg, trying to shake his balance. " _Murdering_ your father, freeing his _slaves_ – what a model citizen you've become."  
  
"I'm not afraid of you," Prompto said. Ignis could hear the lie.  
  
"No?" Ardyn said. He pressed his foot down. Ignis couldn't restrain his wheeze of pain.  
  
"No!" Prompto said, glancing back and forth between them. His voice wavered. "Get off of him!"  
  
"I seem to recall another offer," Ardyn said mildly. Ignis screamed at the _crack_ of pressure in his chest, dizzy once more with pain.  
  
Prompto was staring frantically at Ignis's face. Ignis tried to mouth to him, _Go, run_ , anything.   
  
The sight of his friend's wide eyes and trembling lip as he looked to Ardyn, to Ignis, then Ardyn once more, filled Ignis's vision.  
  
"I'll do it," he rasped.

Ardyn removed his foot from Ignis's chest, and Ignis remained for a moment, catching his breath. A boot nudged his ribs.  
  
"Well?" the man above him said. "What _will_ you do to see your friend home safe and sound?"  
  
Ignis spoke. "Any–"  
  
Ardyn interrupted him. "Must we go through this again? Sit up, and do it properly."  
  
Rage boiling through his veins, Ignis painfully pulled himself to his knees before the other man. He didn't look up.  
  
"Hmm. I don't know," Ardyn said, approaching his bowed head. "How can I be certain you're not going to pull another fast one, the moment my back is turned? What will you do to demonstrate your sincerity?"  
  
"Anything," he said.  
  
Ardyn's eyes lit with a wicked fire. "Anything, you say?"  
  
Ignis shut his eyes. "Yes."  
  
"Anything I want?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Yes..."  
  
Ignis bowed his head, eyes stinging. "Yes... _master_ ," he spit, staring at the ground.  
  
"A kiss, then."  
  
Ignis, startled, forgot himself and looked up. Ardyn crossed the last of the space between them, reaching forward to cup Ignis's face in one hand. He pressed his lips chastely to Ignis's mouth.   
  
Then he placed a thumb against Ignis's closed lips. Ignis allowed the man to part his mouth open, eyes squeezing back shut. This was the least he could do, for the magnitude of his mistakes. For Prompto's sake.


	21. Chapter 21

To his surprise, something small, hard and metal pressed between his teeth.  
  
"There you go," Ardyn said, tapping his jaw to shut it, trapping the foreign object in his mouth. Ignis complied automatically.   
  
"I love when they ask so nicely." Ardyn gathered his awful hat from where it had fallen, striding past an equally dumbfounded Prompto. He tipped a curtsy to Prompto as he placed it back on his head and opened the door.  
  
"You'll find everything you need in there," he said in Ignis's direction. "Not that it will do you much good. Still, you've tried your best."  
  
Ignis spit the object out. In his hand rested a slender steel memory stick. He ran his thumb over the numbers _128_ engraved at one end.  
  
"One more thing," Ardyn exclaimed, halfway out the door. He tossed something to the ground. It landed by Besithia's foot in a clatter. Ignis recognized it for a ring of miniature keys.   
  
"Left out the door, and right the rest of the way. Do forward my regards to your king," he said, "and – _best_ wishes as to the continuation of your petty affairs between men and nations."  
  
He snapped his fingers, and the boy beside Prompto stood. Ignoring Prompto's exclamation of protest, the boy followed Ardyn out the door.  
  
They remained where they were in stunned silence for a moment, Ignis's ragged breath slowly returning to normal. His hands shook as he shuffled to the base of Besithia's body. He dropped the keys once, twice, before Prompto came to kneel gently before him, taking each wrist in hand as he unfastened it. Ignis pressed a hand to the dark ring of bruising at Prompto's throat.  
  
Prompto rested their foreheads together. "Hey," he said, a weak smile on his face. "You okay?"  
  
Ignis didn't speak, didn't know whether the other actually expected an answer. The moment hung in the air between them. Then, they snapped apart. Prompto gathered Ignis's clothing from where it had been discarded. Ignis took it, looking at Prompto's bare body before him.   
  
Prompto had spent most of the weekend unclothed. He deserved some dignity when they reunited with the others. Ignis pushed his own shirt and trousers back towards the other man. Then, teeth bared, he pulled Besithia's outer robe from the man's lifeless body, wrapping himself in it.  
  
Their directions proven accurate, the two made good time in escaping through the service hallways of the building, emerging beside a loading dock and dumpster under the streetlights of Accordo.   
  
" _Arena Galviano?_ " Gladio said incredulously when he picked up, voice thick with sleep. When they arrived in a rental, Noct blinking sleepily in the driver's seat, Gladio took one look at the two of them and rummaged for their stock of curatives.   
  
On the drive back to their temporary lodgings outside the city, conversation remained terse. Gladio and Noctis entreated them to a summary of the weekend's adventures, including a fishing trip gone awry.   
  
There was an expectant silence in the atmosphere, but neither Prompto nor Ignis saw fit to volunteer the details of their excursion, beyond its success.  
Later that night, Ignis laid on his back, staring up at the ceiling of the caravan. They'd pushed the beds together for the night. To his right, Gladio snored, Noct curled in a ball against the Shield's other side. Prompto slept pressed into Noct on the end.  
  
It had only been a few days, but suddenly the time before their journey to the resort seemed impossibly distant.  
  
Odd, how it felt, sleeping apart once more.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> These last 2 short parts are an optional epilogue for those who prefer a hopeful/ship ending.

They ate out at the nearest option the next morning when it became clear that Ignis was in no state to cook breakfast, Gladio and Noct still making attempts at extracting his mood.   
  
He resolved to process the weekend more guardedly, behave as though nothing had changed. No need to worry the others. He certainly wasn't ready to talk about it, even if he knew where to begin. He'd prepare a lunch with everyone's favorites, and hopefully take his mind off of things for a time.  
  
Prompto intercepted him on the way to market, under the pretense of offering a hand. Ignis tentatively accepted. He didn't miss the look Noct and Gladio gave one another behind Prompto's back.  
  
Though the air between them teemed with it, the pair made it about a block before Prompto said something.  
  
"Look," he began. "I dunno how to say this, so I'm just gonna go for it."  
  
"Prompto, there's no need to –" Ignis began, but Prompto threw a hand up.  
  
"No. Wait. Let me get this out," he said. "You can have whatever reaction you want when I'm finished."  
  
Ignis bit his tongue, waiting.  
  
"So, I like you," Prompto said, which was the last thing Ignis expected to hear. He almost spoke again, but Prompto was already elaborating. "This is a lot, I know. We just got out of a pretty messed-up deal. I knew you'd be there for me, and that you didn't wanna do some of the things you had to, but you did it anyway." Prompto said. "And before you say that's just what any of us would do for the others – bullshit, it's more than that."  
  
Ignis, it seemed, had lost the use of his voice. His heart raced in his throat.  
  
"I was kind of into it, at first," Prompto admitted, ducking his head. Ignis allowed for the faintest fluttering in his chest. "Like, in a fetish kind of way. That sounds stupid, but I didn't know, I know better now, and I don't want to mix up the stuff that's us from the stuff that's – " he paused at the look on Ignis's face. "Shit. Are you okay? Did I make this super uncomfortable?"  
  
"Yes," Ignis said. "I am, presently, super uncomfortable."  
  
Prompto rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm sorry. I don't really wanna talk about it either, yet. I was just thinking about the shit Ardyn said, about destroying trust and stuff, and man – that just pisses me off, you know? Like he can just show up and mess with us and assume we'll never get through it. I don't wanna live like that. So I had to try and say something."  
  
Ignis took a leap of faith.  
  
"I am uncomfortable," he said, "because I am attracted to you." Prompto's jaw dropped. "I am also uncomfortable because of my inability to discuss our recent experiences."  
  
"Ignis," Prompto said. Ignis stopped to face him.  
  
"But I, too, rankle at villainous manipulation. If nothing else, this weekend offered a glimpse of how easily you and I might never have met. How easily our lives could have gone much differently, with or without our control. And," Ignis ventured, mouth dry, "I've realized just how ardent my preference for _this_ life really is. Including your part in it."  
  
" _Iggy_ ," Prompto said, his voice a whisper. "Oh, oh wow. You're serious. That's your scared vocabulary. Iggy –"  
  
"I've asked too much of you already," Ignis said, "But if you'll permit, I have one last request."  
  
"Anything," Prompto said. "Well, not anything – at least not yet – but –"  
  
Ignis stilled him with a hand on the shoulder. "Not yet," he agreed. "But maybe –"  
  
"Yeah, maybe," Prompto agreed eagerly, bouncing on his feet. Ignis gathered his courage one more.  
  
"Then, in the spirit of 'maybe'," he said, moving his hand to rest against Prompto's cheek. "would you permit me this kiss?" he said.  
  
"Okay," Prompto said.   
  
It wasn't terrible.


	23. Chapter 23

"Stop," he said before Prompto had been in front of him five minutes, on his knees between Ignis's own and nosing against his still-covered groin.  
  
"Roger that," Prompto said. He pulled his face away from Ignis's clothed dick, offering the other man a pat on the leg. "My bad, buddy."  
  
Ignis frowned. "Wait." Then he shook his head. "Never mind. Let's not. I apologize."  
  
Prompto, still seated on the floor, rubbed his thigh in slow circles. "Shush."  
  
"I do intend to overcome this," Ignis said, seriously, to his lover's merry pink face. His slacks were still unbuttoned. He could feel the blush upon his cheeks. "I _am_ attracted to you. Intolerably so. Furthermore, I resent the implication put forth that joint trauma – though admittedly horrific – would be enough to drive us apart forever."  
  
Prompto sat back on his heels. The man winked at Ignis. In a sarcastic tone, he deadpanned, "Recovery _is_ possible!"  
  
He was so cute, even whilst behaving like an idiot. Ignis buried his face in his hands. "Do you have any _idea_ what you do to me?"  
  
"Relax, Igs," Prompto said. "Goes both ways. I'm thrilled we got this far."  
  
Ignis groaned through his fingers. His partner snickered.  
  
"Next time," Prompto said, patting him on the back. "We'll try again. No rush."  
  


* * *

  
  
"Touch me," Ignis whispered into Prompto's mouth, fumbling between their bodies with a hand. He felt the other man grin into his kiss, and a moment later the cold touch of his hand sliding below Ignis's waistband. He shifted onto his side on the bed to allow the man a better angle.  
  
Prompto pulled both of them out, wrapping his hand about their stiff lengths as best he could. He started to rub their cocks together, agonizingly slow. Ignis moaned against his tongue.  
  
"You good?" he said, pulling apart. Ignis just nodded, flushed with heat, and Prompto released his mouth. He curled into Ignis and tugged at the man's earlobe with his teeth.  
  
Ignis reached between them, placing his hand against Prompto's and delivering a firm stroke. They both groaned in unison at the friction, dicks slick with precome.  
  
Prompto directed his attentions from Ignis's ear to his collarbone, nipping and tugging the beginning of a lovebite out of him with a single-minded determination.  
  
The quiet, slick sound from his hand working over their grinding erections punctuated the soft sounds of the man's mouth. Ignis pulled his hand from their pressed unison, placing it against Prompto's stomach.  
  
At once he felt the man flinch. Ignis withdrew his hand, but the damage was done. Prompto had already begun to soften between them. His own cock valiantly throbbed, and he pulled away, breathing heavily.  
  
Beside him in the bed, Prompto rubbed his hand dry against the pillow and grumbled in frustration. Ignis wrinkled his nose at the mess.  
  
"Sorry," Prompto said sheepishly. Ignis rested the back of his hand against the other man's face.  
  
"Next time," he said. Prompto rolled over to press a kiss against his forehead, and settled back against the covers. Ignis extracted himself from between the sheets and made for the bathroom to wash off his hands.  
  


* * *

  
  
" _Enjoying ourselves_?"  
  
Facedown, Prompto ground backwards against him, small whimpers of satisfaction escaping his nose. Ignis dug his fingers into the smaller man's bony wrists, held together behind his back by one of Ignis's broad hands. He felt the hot pressure of Prompto clenching around his length in time with his rough, rapid thrusts, the other rolling his hips backwards to fuck himself against Ignis. Prompto writhed on the bed.  
  
Ignis could feel the decade's worth of scars beneath his other palm, one thick and curving over Prompto's shoulder, another at the base of his spine. The patch of an unlucky tonberry burn, seared into his upper arm. A long, thin slice near the base of his neck.  
  
This was his. All his. And he was beautiful.  
  
The man beneath him arched his back in Ignis's grip, driving himself down on his cock. Ignis kept his hand on the back of his neck. Prompto moaned openly.  
  
Ignis ran his fingers into the other man's hair at the nape of his neck. He felt the satin texture of the blindfolding fabric wrapped around Prompto's head. " _I asked you a question_."  
  
" _Mm_ ," Prompto whined. " _Yes, I love it, you're so good, Ignis, fuck,_ "  
  
" _Good_ ," Ignis said, tugging Prompto's head back. He knew the other man's expression without the need for sight. Mouth hanging open, hot all over with arousal, rocking forward each time Ignis struck that place deep inside him. Prompto struggled against the grip on his wrists, sending a thrill into Ignis that went straight to his cock.  
  
He pulled out most of the way, eliciting a desperate sound of disappointment. It transformed into another sound entirely as Ignis pressed his cock slowly back inside to the hilt.  
  
Ignis bent over him, jerking his hips in a tight, rapid rut. The heat and sound and smell of their sex hung all around them. He marveled at the trusting, eager tremble of the body beneath him, the whimper of Prompto's pleasure.  
  
" _You're all mine_ ," he whispered in the arc of Prompto's ear.  
  
" _Yessir. I'm yours,_ " the other man cried as Ignis spent inside him. " _I'm all yours_."  
  
Later, they lay tangled into the covers, Prompto splayed against his front, head tucked under his chin.  
  
In the early years of the long night, they would wake up more nights than not, and gratefully cling to the sanctuary of another body's warmth. Some nightmares recalled the past, while others anticipated their future. At one point, their aftercare had consisted of more conversation than cuddles, and the occasional embarassment of tears.  
  
These days, Ignis found himself largely content to lie silent, enveloped in one another.  
  
Prompto said something unintelligible against Ignis's chest.  
  
Ignis rubbed the back of his neck in gentle strokes. "We should bathe," he sighed, making no effort to move.  
  
"If only we had running water," Prompto lamented. "I'm - " he yawned - " _not_ in the mood to go out right now."  
  
"We should," Ignis repeated. Prompto grumbled and started to peel himself off, but sat back on the edge of the bed. Ignis slowly got up. He felt his partner shift.  
  
"Kinda think we should give real rope a try, next time," Prompto ventured. "That was pretty hot."  
  
Ignis smiled. Rubbing the back of Prompto's neck, he replied, "Next time."


End file.
